


WhoNatural - Doctor Who/Supernatural Crossover

by LiteralTrash (looking_for_a_crossroads)



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:21:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 38,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27612712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/looking_for_a_crossroads/pseuds/LiteralTrash
Summary: The Winchesters hunt. The Doctor saves. What happens when their worlds collide?
Kudos: 17





	1. Chapter 1

The sun was shining brightly down on the tightly packed rooftops of London, the phenomenon such a seldom occurrence in the United Kingdom that citizens and tourists alike were in either pleasant disbelief or suppressed annoyance in the face of the country's newly adopted climate. Regardless of which stance was taken on the matter, everybody continued about their daily business as usual. People went to work with take-away coffee in hand, disgruntled parents struggled, but to no avail to escort their children away from ever enticing toy shops, and a blue telephone box suddenly materialised out of thin air, then lay dormant on a small alleyway corner, humming ever so slightly. The latter happening was just slightly out of the ordinary; less common than the former sights but, interestingly enough, happened more often than the sun deciding to grace Britain with its presence on a Monday morning.

The door of what was labelled 'Police Box' suddenly swung inward to reveal a man's head, ruffled brown hair sticking up in every which way, and dark eyes observing closely as he seemed to attempt to get his bearings. As the door swung wider still, the rest of his body followed, one hand lazily closing the door gently shut behind him. He wore a blue suit mostly covered by a long brown coat, trailing somewhere about his knees. His red canvas shoes scuffed the gravel pavement as he stepped forward into the street. Before leaving however, he turned and gave the wooden box he had just emerged from what he thought might be an affectionate pat, before turning on his heel, running a hand through his messy hair and striding purposefully towards the main street, hands shoved deep in his pockets. The Police Box purred slightly, waiting for her master to return, as he always did.

The Doctor stood in the middle of the pavement, jostled slightly by the small crowd as he peered interestedly into a local fish and chips joint. Humans are such an amazingly simple race, he mused, and perhaps that might be one of the reasons why he was attracted to this planet so. The Doctor was suddenly jolted from his thoughts and he stumbled backwards slightly as a shoulder bumped against his.

"Sorry man, didn't see ya there." Following the voice to the face it belonged to, The Doctor locked eyes with a man, maybe in his twenties, with soft green-brown eyes and wearing a large brown leather jacket, the collar turned up against his neck. Eyes darting to the left, it also appeared that the man had a partner with him, slightly younger but taller, and with longer hair, a jacket covering a blue plaid shirt. Realising suddenly that he had been staring, The Doctor jumped and shook himself out of inspecting the pair in front of him.

"Oh, that's alright, no trouble at all. It was my fault really, I am terribly clumsy." He rambled, beaming, oblivious to the strange look he was getting from the two. Rather than leaving it at that, the man's eyes narrowed, and he took a tentative step closer.

"Do I... know you from somewhere?" he enquired, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. The Doctor flashed another winning smile and scratched his ear thoughtfully.

"I shouldn't think so, though I have met my fair share of...you lot...so forgive me if you've slipped my mind." The Doctor's dark eyes flitted to the second man, who had stridden up to the first, urgently tugging the sleeve of his coat and worrying his bottom lip with his teeth.

"Dean-come on man, we don't have time for this," the younger clutched at a leather-bound notebook as if his life depended on it and gestured to what seemed to be their car; a jet-black Chevrolet Impala. The man named Dean shook himself before turning his attention to his younger brother.

"Yeah, right, of course," he mumbled, turning away from The Doctor without a parting word. "Please tell me you've got something good, Sammy, or by God I just might bend over and let Lucifer kiss my ass already." His voice trailed off as they headed to the car. The Doctor blinked. The quirks of humans had always amused him, but this sounded just strange enough to be classified as different. The smile that had just before lit his features had vanished, replaced instead by a look of serious confusion. Trying to be as discreet as possible, The Doctor sidled up to the sleek black car as the two boys were getting in, as though to casually walk past it. His sonic screwdriver whirred quietly under his trench coat as he aimed it at the vehicle as he kept walking. Behind him, The Doctor heard the engine roar to life before fading away to a distant hum. He turned on his heel off the main road, and began to double his pace toward where he had come, back to the blue box he had arrived in. He had some research to do.

****

The quiet electronic whirring of the TARDIS was all that accompanied The Doctor as he focused on the small screen in front of him, a thoughtful frown ghosting his features as he watched picture after picture of his two mystery men flash before him. Eyebrows furrowed in concentration, he turned and plugged his sonic screwdriver into a small space on his control panel. Eyes darting back and forth, he hurried to read the intricate gallifreyan symbols spiralling across the screen. Seeming to have gotten the information he needed, The Doctor sprang to life, flipping a switch hurriedly before darting around the console, pulling levers and pushing buttons at an alarming speed. The TARDIS shook around him, the wheezing, groaning sound it breathed the only comfort to The Doctor's scattered thoughts.

"Bingo!" He pulled one last handle, causing the TARDIS to shudder to a halt. Taking a final glance at the small screen, The Doctor proceeded to the double doors before him, grabbing his coat and pulling it around himself before yanking the door towards him.

"Oh." The Doctor heard a click as he was met with the barrels of two guns, pointed right at his face.

_-10 minutes earlier-_

"I just can't make sense of it, Dean," Sam brought his hands up to his face, massaging the bridge of his nose in frustration. ''There's just – there's no feasible way that we can be here right now.'' His older brother Dean scowled, grabbing two beers from the small refrigerator in their motel room and bringing them over to the table.

"Sam, since when is anything we ever do feasible?" he countered, flipping the lid off the glass bottle and taking a long swig.

"Fair point," Sam sighed and closed his laptop, giving up on research for the moment. Dean groaned and leaned back in his chair, eyes screwed shut.

"Castiel, is this to do with you?" he appeared to be talking to no one as he called the name. Within moments, and as if out of thin air, a third man appeared in the small motel room, causing dean to fall back in his chair and onto the floor with a yelp. The man's blue eyes slowly trailed to the ground as he fell. He was dressed in strange attire, an oversized trench coat covering a white shirt and messy blue tie. He ran a hand through his short black hair as he spoke in a deep, rather rough voice.

"Hello Dean." He peered down at Dean, still on the floor, one hand over his heart. "Sam," he greeted the younger, turning his way with a respectful nod.

"Jesus, Cas, we've talked about this!" Dean whined, recovering enough to pick himself up off the floor and back to his chair. "No angel mo-jo without warning! You're gonna be the death of me, I swear." Dean took a deep breath, slumping into his chair with a resigned sort of huff. Castiel stared at him.

"I am not Jesus." Dean gave him a withering look before giving up and remembering their current predicament.

"Anyway, is this you?" Castiel's eyebrows furrowed slightly.

"Is what me?" Dean let out an exasperated sigh, gesturing rather violently out the window.

"Um...maybe the fact that we're in, oh I dunno, _London_? The last thing either of us remember is researching a case back at the bunker-then...poof! We're here – and so is my car, thank God for small mercies – and neither of us have a clue how we got here!" He finished with a deep sigh, rubbing a hand over his eyes. Castiel's frown deepened.

"I thought you'd be more interested in the fact that you're in the year 2005." He quipped, deadpan. Dean's eyes widened as Sam did a double-take beside him.

"We're in – _what?_ " Sam stepped forward, a mixture of confusion and anger upon his features. "You didn't think to... I dunno, tell us we were in a different _timeline_?" Cas frowned deeper still.

"I came as soon as you asked." Sam covered his face in his hands, resigned.

"I guess we were too preoccupied with where we were that we didn't realise _when_ we were." He offered, his voice muffled by his hands. Dean seemed to recover, his face morphing from annoyance to resolve.

"So, what is this? Angels? You lot are the only ones who've been able to back-to-the-future us before." He turned to Cas who shook his head. In the silence that followed, a difference seemed to hang in the air. It started with a soft draught, ruffling hair and causing Castiel's coat to flap heavily against his legs. Dean stood very still, sensing the notable change in the air.

"Uh... There aren't any windows open, are there?" the group of three looked about the small room, confirming it was indeed sealed to the outside elements. Then came the sound. A rushing, breathy noise accompanied the unusual breeze, softly at first, then growing louder with every second that passed. Dean grabbed for the handgun in his inner coat pocket, holding it warily. Sam followed suit.

It came slowly at first, as if phasing into very existence itself. The dark blue Police Box just barely fit into the corner of the room, with zero space on either side.

"What the..." Dean's voice was barely audible over the din.

"Is that a... Telephone Box?" Sam questioned aloud, unsure of what he was seeing.

The box became solid, and the noise ceased. Sam and Dean's weapons of defence hung limply at their sides, dumbfounded expressions upon their faces. Castiel's features remained unreadable. The silence that followed the disturbance seemed to swallow the small room whole. It stretched for what felt like hours before the wooden front door creaked and opened slowly inward. As if triggered mechanically by the sound, Sam and Dean sprang into action, the click of their guns accompanying their lightning – fast reflexes as they trained their weapons at the opening door. Similar to that of the arrival that morning, a man's brown-haired head poked tentatively out from behind it. His face fell, changing from excitement to something like a puppy's face when it's scolded.

"Oh." Was all that came from The Doctor's mouth as he came face-to-face with the brothers' weaponry. Dean was the first to take action. He lifted his gun higher.

"Who are you??" The Doctor seemed greatly worried by the aggression, slowly raising his hands and stepping forward out of the wooden box.

"I assure you, there's no need for... those," he said quietly, eyeing the guns with an obvious distaste.

"Sam. Dean." The boys turned at their names to see Castiel motion calmly with his hand to stand at ease. Not looking reassured, they did as they were told. The Doctor seemed to relax considerably, though he hastily stuffed his hands deep in the pockets of his coat.

"You haven't answered the question." Sam added tensely, though his face seemed to relax. Dean kept one hand resting on the gun now slipped loosely in the seat of his pants. The Doctor seemed to have regained some of his former glow; he put on his brightest smile, as though he didn't just come face to face with two cold-metal killing machines.

"I'm The Doctor." He grinned as if the statement settled everything, oblivious to Sam and Dean's blank faces.

"Uh... Doctor Who?Sam queried, his obvious confusion not lifting.

"Oh, just The Doctor," hardly missing a beat, it seemed The Doctor had done this many times before. He was clearly becoming more comfortable by the second, as if almost in his element. Dean didn't seem thrilled by the almost light-hearted energy pervading from this...this _thing_ that had materialised in front of them without a moments notice.

Okay... _The Doctor,_ " He stepped forward with the mind of clearly displaying his distaste of the whole situation, but a thought lodged itself in his brain before he could finish speaking his mind. It was the kind of thought that begins as a feeling; one you can't quite shake, like something hiding just out of sight, a corner-of-your-eye, a tip-of-your-tongue kind of thought. The Doctor raised his eyes to meet Dean's. He stared, unaware that time was still passing, and all eyes of the small company of people were on him.

"Yes?" The Doctor asked, perfectly diplomatic and calm, waiting patiently for Dean to reanimate. Sam walked tentatively up to his older brother, concern on his face. He reached out a hand and placed it on his shoulder, giving him a small shake.

"Dean. Hey. You okay?" As if startled out of his thoughts by Sam's touch, Dean blinked and squared his shoulders, standing up a little higher.

"Nothing, I'm..." he looked back at The Doctor, who's eyes hadn't left his face. "It's just... I _swear_ I've seen you before." This seemed to shake something loose in Dean's brain, and he clicked his fingers and pointed at the Doctor, as though someone had flipped a switch inside his head. "This morning! I walked into you!" he exclaimed. However, his corner-of your-eye, tip-of-your-tongue thought would remain with him for quite some time. A look of realisation also dawned on Sam's face as he too remembered the recent events of that day. The Doctor grinned sheepishly.

"Ah. Yes. Right, terribly sorry about that," He stuttered, bringing a hand out of his pocket to scratch the back of his head nervously. Clearly wanting to change the subject, The Doctor gave a sharp intake of breath before hurriedly attempting to rectify the awkwardness of the situation. He clapped his hands together. "Anyway! I introduced myself so it only seems fair that you do the same," he gestured towards Dean, who was closest to him. Dean opened his mouth in what looked like protest, before closing it again.

"Ah, what the hell," he resigned with a sigh. "I'm Dean, and this is my brother -" He began to gesture towards Sam before The Doctor cut him off.

"So, you must be Sam," he said politely, closing the gap towards them to hold out a hand for the younger brother to shake. "Winchester, right?" Sam stared, not accepting the outstretched hand before him.

"How – how did you know that?" The Doctor withdrew his hand, placing it back in the pocket of his coat. He began to pace absentmindedly back and forth across the small space in front of the wooden blue box, eyes cast down at his red canvas shoes.

"Oh, you know, I did a little research," he replied casually with a small smile, as if he were conversing over tea and biscuits. "And by all accounts," he added, ceasing his anxious pacing and looking up at the pair. "You – both of you - should be dead." Sam and Dean exchanged glances before Dean cleared his throat and spoke up.

"Well, research can only get you so far. The whole – _death_ thing -" he waved his hand as if death was hardly a fear worth having. "- hasn't really agreed with us." The Doctor perked up, an unmistakable twinkle in his dark brown eyes.

"Oh yes. Yes, I quite agree. I know the feeling, believe me." He smirked, looking rather pleased with himself before a troubled look cast across his face. Clearly, he had said too much. In another desperate attempt to redeem himself, The Doctor fixed his gaze past Dean's shoulder. "And you are...?" Sam and Dean turned their heads simultaneously. They had almost forgotten there was a fourth being in the room. Castiel had not said a word throughout the entire exchange, standing in the corner, just watching and listening, zero emotion showing on his features.

"That's Cas – Castiel," Dean refrained from using the familiar nickname. "He's a friend."

"Hello." Cas said, his voice low and quite due to lack of use. He shuffled awkwardly on the spot, clearly uncomfortable. "I'll just – um...go," he mumbled, before vanishing into thin air with a rustle of feathers, as quick as one could blink. Dean rolled his eyes, clearly used to his friend's method of transportation. The Doctor however, did a missive double take, and his eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Oh, now that's _very_ interesting." Not unlike a beagle to a scent, The Doctor took a few large strides across the room to the place where Castiel had disappeared. Rummaging in his pockets, he pulled out a device, long and slender with a small blue light on the end. It whirred mechanically as it's owner waved it over the general space where Cas had been, intense concentration upon his face. Sam and Dean exchanged glances. Dean tilted his head in the Doctor's direction with an incredulous look that screamed: _Can you believe this guy??_ Ever the diplomat, Sam gave his brother a stern yet calm look in return that he knew all too well: _Wait._ Dean shook his head slightly and raised his eyes to the ceiling, their brotherly conflict clearly shown in just a few seconds. They both then turned to look at their newfound visitor, to find him now crouched close to the slightly mouldy carpet, a hand hovering over the air where their friend had stood.

" _Fascinating,_ " The Doctor's voice was lowered to an awed whisper as he checked his device. "There's something here, like a kind of energy I've never seen before!" His interest quickly gave way to a childish excitement. Dean rubbed a hand over his eyes, clearly exhausted by The Doctor's unpredictable mood swings.

"Something tells me you've seen stuff like this before. So, you a hunter or what?"

"Hunter?" The Doctor cocked his head to one side.

"Guess not..." Dean mumbled under his breath. He probed further. "Supernatural stuff? No?" The Doctor smiled.

"Not really my area, no."

"Then what is?" Sam questioned tentatively, not really wanting an answer. The Doctor straightened up, fixing his tie as he did so.

"Aliens." He smiled, waiting for the bombshell to settle in the small room. Sam swallowed, visibly surprised. Dean blinked a couple of times but remained unreadable.

"A-aliens?" Said Sam, unsure of what he had heard.

"Yup." The Doctor replied smugly, popping the 'p' sound with his lips. Sam opened his mouth, most likely to ask one of a million questions swimming around in his brain, but was interrupted by Dean who stepped forward, carrying an air of authority and finality with him.

"Alright, Mulder. Question time. I don't really care about much, except-" He raised his voice sternly. "Why are you here? And what the _hell,_ " Dean turned to jab a finger at the wooden police box that had lain dormant since The Doctor's arrival. "Is that thing?"

"Oh, this?" The Doctor looked at the blue box proudly. "That's the TARDIS."

"Yeah, that explains a lot," Dean scoffed under his breath. The Doctor glared at him, irritated at being interrupted.

"It's my space-ship...thing." He trailed off, realising how silly he sounded too late. Sam and Dean stared, something they has been doing an awful lot since their strange visitor had arrived.

"Spaceship." The word came out of Sam's mouth, not sounding remotely normal. "You have a spaceship." It wasn't a question either, just a statement that either of the brothers could hardly believe.

"Looks like a hunk of wood to me," Dean smirked, sarcasm being his only coping mechanism for what his brain was processing.

"Hey, watch it!" The Doctor looked personally offended, walking up to his beloved police box and giving it a reassuring pat. Dean rolled his eyes. "It might be better if I show you."

****

The Doctor waited patiently as Sam and Dean slowly approached the TARDIS, leaning casually against its side, and twirling a small silver key between his nimble fingers. The older brother reached the door first, with Sam looking nervously over his shoulder.

"Ready?" The Doctor looked as though he could hardly contain his excitement as he inserted the key into the lock and pushed. A homely creak echoed through the small room, and Dean turned his head to look exasperatedly at Sam.

"C'mon, man, this is ridiculous. The three of us probably can't even-" The words died instantly in his throat as he turned back and was met with a cavernous room, instead of the wooden back of the phone box he expected. "fit..." Dean finished his sentence breathlessly and the two boys took a few small steps into the impossibly large space. Blue-green and white lights illuminated the room from every direction, bouncing off the gold panelled walls. A large and very complicated control panel towered in the very centre, and pillars of bright blue moved slowly up and down inside it, giving the impression that it was breathing, slowly and deeply. Thick black wires travelled from the impossibly high ceiling, and tall brown structures leaned against the walls, as if acting as a skeleton holding the place together. Corridors branched off the room in multiple directions, leading to rooms that clearly could not exist within the bounds of reality. Dean's own words came back to him, strangely grounding him a little. _Since when is anything we do feasible?_ Sam hadn't said a word beside him, speechless as he took in the sight before them. The Doctor was now leaning casually against the control panel, feet crossed over each other and a bright grin upon his face.

"What do you think?" He asked eagerly, searching Sam and Dean's faces earnestly for any kind of notable reaction. Dean took a deep breath and said what often came to mind when faced with situations that were in any way similar to this.

"I need a drink."


	2. Chapter 2

"So, let me get this straight," Dean leaned back in his chair, head tilted towards the ceiling as he took another swig from the bottle in front of him. Sam sat next to him, hunched over the table and staring at a stain on the wall as if it was more interesting than what had just happened to the two of them. The Doctor eyed the beer bottle in front of him pensively, too polite to refuse when it had been offered to him. He picked it up gingerly as though it was alive, lifted it to his lips and took a sip, trying to put on a brave face for the two clearly experienced drinkers seated across the table. His plan failed however, when his face acted of its own accord, scrunching up in disgust and barely holding back a coughing fit. The Doctor placed the bottle back down on the table in a hurry.

"That...thing...is a magical box that can travel through time and space. Have I got it so far?" Dean huffed, swinging his legs up to place them casually on the table as he rocked the chair back and forth on two of its legs.

"Not magical, no. Purely scientific, you must understand" The Doctor smiled gently, perfectly aware of the effects that seeing the TARDIS had on humans. They also seemed to be taking it surprisingly well, he thought as he watched Sam raise his head from where it was cupped in his hands. _Here we go,_ mused The Doctor as he knew exactly the conversation that would follow.

"That stuff back there, your...ship." The Doctor nodded encouragingly "It's not human."

"Indeed."

"So... _you're_ not...human." Sam stuttered out. The Doctor beamed.

"I'm not, no."

"So-what exactly are you, then?" Sam asked quietly, somehow attempting to make sense of everything he had heard and seen in the course of a day.

"I'm a Timelord." Dean, who had been silent for some time, snorted at this.

"Sounds douchey." He mumbled into his drink. The Doctor stared at him, unimpressed.

"So, I'm assuming there's a reason you're here," Sam started, "and that it has something to do with us being in the wrong time."

"Correct!" The Doctor leaned forward, clasping his hands on the table in front of him. "You two are quite far away from home."

"Yeah, you could say that," Dean muttered lowly, taking another drink. The Doctor's eyes flicked over to him for a second before he continued.

"I'm here to bring you back." At this, the brothers perked up instantly, sharing a glance before turning back to The Doctor.

"You can do that?" Sam asked breathlessly.

"Of course. We hop in the TARDIS, I bring you back to the present, and voila! You two can go back to drinking beer and shooting things." The Doctor finished with an almost-scowl. Dean lifted his bottle in silent agreement before downing the last of it and getting to his feet. Sam followed his lead.

"Exactly. So, let's get this show on the road, shall we? I don't want to stay here any longer than I have to." The Doctor jumped to his feet.

"Right, of course." He took the lead as they strode back over to the TARDIS. Dean stalled himself before entering for the second time.

"I'm never gonna get used to this," he grumbled before walking nervously aboard with Sam in tow.

****

The two brothers stood awkwardly side by side, not really sure where they should be standing despite the large amount of space inside the TARDIS. They looked around themselves in awe, still taking in the small details of this strange new place they had been rather abruptly thrown into. The sides of the walls were decorated with a pattern of hexagonal shapes. A small flight of stairs lead down under the control panel that yielded even more walkways to different areas. The Doctor got straight to work, first removing his long brown coat and flinging it over the side of a pillar. Now at the controls, it seemed as though many more people were meant to operate them; The Doctor managed, however, by running around the panel doing a million different things at once. Sam looked over at Dean nervously before attempting conversation.

"Dude, you good?" Dean jumped at the sound of Sam's voice, clearly uptight and very-not good.

"Fine, why?" He feigned confusion, rather badly Sam thought. He knew his brother far too well to even have to ask, but he continued anyway, the tiniest of smirks creeping its way onto his lips.

"It's just- I know how you can get with aeroplanes, so I just thought-" Bingo. Dean gulped and closed his eyes. Still, his raging stubbornness shone through even his worst fear.

"Dude, that is _so_ not what this is about. Planes, spaceships, completely different." He hissed out the last few words, visibly upset that Sam had reminded him of his phobia.

"Right, got it." Sam gave it up quickly, slightly remorseful at seeing his older brother in distress. In a hurried attempt to save face, Dean shuffled closer to the middle of the room, to where the doctor was wildly pushing buttons, pulling levers and typing furiously in front of a small monitor filled with strange symbols.

"So, uh, exactly how big is this thing, anyway?" He put on his strong, no-nonsense demeanour to mask the fact that his voice had risen slightly in pitch. The Doctor did not look up from his work.

"I'm going to make your life easier and just say, _really_ big. Oi, I wouldn't touch that if I were you!" Dean jumped, startled again by The Doctor's shift in tone. He stopped dead where he was, about to lean on the control panel. Dean raised his eyes to meet The Doctor's sheepishly, and he scurried away from anything that looked remotely touchable, returning to his younger brother's side.

"Right then!" The Doctor exclaimed happily from his place behind the central pillar, sticking his head out to address the two. He looked like he was thoroughly enjoying himself as he placed his hand on a very large lever.

"You might want to hold on to something," He smirked as he watched Sam and Dean share similar looks of alarm before grabbing tightly onto the metal railing behind them. "Off we go then!" The Doctor chuckled as he threw the lever down. Immediately, the room began to shake, not unlike that of a moderate earthquake. The same breathy, wheezing noise they had heard upon The Doctor's arrival had returned, louder than ever. Dean's knuckles turned white as he gripped the railing hard, and squeezed his eyes shut tight. Then, with a sharp jolt, it stopped. Dean peeked an eye open to see Sam looking rather windswept and The Doctor already grabbing his coat.

"That's it?" Sam wondered aloud.

"That's it." The Doctor called from the entrance. "Lebanon, Kansas, America, Earth, The Solar System." He grabbed the handle and pushed as Sam and Dean strode down the metal walkway to the door.

"Welcome back, boys."


	3. Chapter 3

The bunker was still and silent, as it almost always was. Books of all shapes and sizes littered the warm-brown wooden tables, as well as stacked high on bookshelf after bookshelf. One of these tables had small ragged indents scratched into the surface, showing initials: D.W and S.W. Despite being underground, the lights situated all over the place gave off a homely feel. The only object that was extremely out of place was the deep blue police box, sitting silently at the foot of the stairs.

The door of the police box creaked slowly open and The Doctor stepped out, hands in his pockets. A second later, Dean's head peeked out from behind the door, followed by Sam.

"Holy crap, we actually moved," Dean let out a shaky breath as he stepped out of the TARDIS, looking more than ecstatic to be in a place of familiarity. Sam followed suit.

"Nice place you have," The Doctor mused conversationally, surveying the area. Sam nodded in agreement.

"It's not exactly normal, but it's home. This place is all we've got." The Doctor nodded in silent understanding.

"Sam. You've returned." A deep voice echoed forth from one of the corridors, and Castiel rounded the corner, looking rather dishevelled. His dark hair was sticking up in places, and his dark blue tie was askew.

"Hey, Cas." Sam replied in greeting. The Doctor saw an opportunity to speak, and so he did, bounding forward to a nervous looking Castiel.

"I believe our last meeting was cut rather short, don't you? I'm the Doctor." He grinned, oblivious to the blankness that had set across Cas' face.

"A doctor of what?" The angel tried valiantly to make what he thought was a decent human conversation; Dean had been teaching him a thing or two on how to 'fit in', although Cas believed that to be impossible. The Doctor scratched the back of his head and cleared his throat.

"Ahem, well, kind of...everything really," He stuttered. Though he didn't show it, small talk definitely wasn't in the list of The Doctor's 'strong points'. It always leads to awkward questions that he couldn't easily answer, he thought as he stumbled around his words. In an attempt to redeem himself, The Doctor held out a hand for Castiel to shake, who grasped it firmly. While this happened, The Doctor's eyes seemed to twinkle as he looked Cas up and down.

"Nice coat," He grinned cheekily. Taken aback, Castiel faltered.

"Uh, thank you. Yours is also...very nice." Against his will, a small smile had begun to quirk at his lips. Sam chuckled, clearly amused at the awkwardness of the two fully grown men. Castiel released The Doctor's hand and looked around.

"Where's Dean?" Sam turned. His brother was no longer next to him.

"Dean?" he called tentatively.

"Uh, yeah?" a muffled reply could be heard from behind the TARDIS. Seconds later, Dean poked his head around the side, looking guilty.

"What were you doing?" Sam queried. Dean cast his eyes to the floor, looking embarrassed.

"Just, uh...checking." Sam raised his eyebrows. Dean flushed, realizing all eyes in the room were on him. He coughed. "For, um..." His voice lowered to a whisper. "secret rooms?" Sam looked at him, amused.

"Dude," he smiled at his older brother, who seemed to be growing redder by the second. He shoved against Sam's shoulder, venomously defensive.

"What? You really expect me to believe in that voodoo crap straight off the bat?! He glared at The Doctor as if it was somehow his fault, who raised his hands in defence. Dean then zeroed in on Cas, desperate to avert the attention away from himself.

"Cas, how'd it go? You find anything?" Castiel ran a hand through his messy hair with a sigh.

"I've been reading for hours and found nothing." He sounded agitated. Sam huffed.

"Back to square one, I guess." He turned to The Doctor. "Hey, thanks so much for helping us out back there," Sam said sincerely.

"Oh no, it was my pleasure." The Doctor replied kindly. It was only until much later The Doctor realized that it was here he could have jumped back in his TARDIS and left, finding some other civilization to marvel upon or some more people to save, or even have some much-warranted time to himself. But another point that was definitely not on his list of 'strong points' was a strong grip on his curiosity. It grabbed him by the reigns and forced the next words out of his mouth.

"Problem with a case?" Sam rubbed both hands over his face.

"Yeah, we're pretty stumped on this one. We were thinking cursed or possessed objects, but this is unlike anything we've seen before." The Doctor blinked. There went another opportunity to leave this, to keep to himself.

"Oh?" Damn his curiosity. Dean spoke up from his new place at the table, stacks of books hiding his face.

"A series of unexplainable disappearances, all within just a couple of months, all over the world. Doesn't seem to be any pattern to it, either." An uncomfortable pit had begun to form in The Doctor's stomach, and he wasn't able to pinpoint why.

"Is there anything at all that connects these people together?" There went his third and final chance, like a fleeting breath of wind. Dean peered at him from over his book-pile.

"Yes, actually. At every place where each victim was last seen, all that was found was the same kind of stone statue." That was it. The Doctor's chance at peace for the foreseeable future was shattered like fragile glass in a single moment. Upon hearing Dean's words, his heart (or hearts, in his case) dropped like a weight. The world seemed to move in slow motion. His breathing became shallow. No, no, no. His mouth moved without his permission, and his own voice sounded very far-away.

"What did they look like? The statues, what did they look like??" Sam, who was standing considerably closer to The Doctor noticed his dramatic change in mood and began to look alarmed.

"Doctor?" He asked, concerned.

"Just tell me!" The Doctor burst out. Dean looked up from the table, now aware that something was wrong. He stood up.

"A-angels. They all looked like Angels."

No, please no. The Doctor was frozen, the company of three staring at him seriously. It was all starting to make sense, the puzzle pieces fitting together in his mind. And at the same time, something was beginning to settle in his stomach, something rare and unusual, something that caused his two hearts to beat at an alarming rate, an emotion that he constantly pushed down and saved for the most dire of occasions.

Fear.


	4. Chapter 4

"Of course. Of course, how could I have been so stupid?" The Doctor smacked his forehead with the palm of his hand in punishment and began to pace, agitated, across the room.

"Y'know, an explanation would be nice. Doctor, what's going on?" Dean got up from the table and strode over to him, abruptly clapping both hands to his shoulders to cease his movements. "And stop doing that, you're making me nervous." The Doctor took in a deep breath.

"Those statues, they're not cursed, they're alive. They-" His explanation didn't get very far. In a split second, his words were cut off as all the lights in the building did the same, a loud hum accompanying the dying electricity. The group raised their heads in alarm, even The Doctor understanding the situation. A moment later, the once inviting bunker was filled with an illuminating, almost angry shade of red, slowly blinking on and off.

"You're kidding." Sam bit his lip as he shared a glance with Dean and Castiel, a look which The Doctor caught. It was one of nervousness and trepidation.

"What's happening?" The Doctor asked slowly, though he already knew the answer. Maybe he was asking in an attempt to slow down the events that were happening and those to come; a childlike sense of playing dumb in order to stall the inevitable. Dean ran both hands through his hair.

"Bunker's gone into lockdown. No one gets in or out of this place unless we override it manually."

"The controls of which are outside the bunker," Sam groaned. Castiel stood next to them, staring at the floor in intense concentration. His face was troubled, almost pained.

"Cas?" Sam put a hand on his shoulder, startling him. He looked up, something close to fear showing on his normally blank features.

"I-I can't use my powers to get out of here. Something's wrong."

"Automatic warding caused by the lockdown?" Dean offered.

"Maybe," said Sam.

"Or maybe it's them." The Doctor murmured ominously. He wordlessly took a few hasty steps backward and thrust open the door of the TARDIS, closing the door behind him. Seconds later, the now familiar breathing of the police box returned, but it sounded...wrong. It sounded laboured and harsh, as if it was tired, or sick.

"No, no, no, no!" The Doctor's desperate muffled shout was heard from behind the closed doors of the TARDIS.

"That's it," Dean strode up to the police box with new resolve. He pounded a closed fist on its wooden doors, the sound echoing about the bunker. "Doctor! You tell us what the hell is going on or I swear I will drag your ass out of there!" Silence. Dean raised his fist to repeat himself, but the door creaked open before he could continue, revealing The Doctor's face, considerably paler than before.

"Doctor, what-?"

"Do you have anywhere in this place that can keep things out?" Dean almost scoffed in reply.

"This whole place is built to keep things out, what are you talking-" Sam coughed knowingly, attracting his brother's attention and giving him a serious look. Judging by The Doctor's dramatic change in temperament, Sam was willing to act first and ask questions later.

"Basement," he jerked his head behind him. The Doctor strode up to the group.

"We need to go there. Now." Dean looked up at him slightly, his eyebrows furrowed worriedly. Sam was the first to spring into motion.

"This way," he called as he strode further into the bunker. He was quickly followed by Dean and Castiel, close on his heels. The Doctor hurried after them, but not before turning to look behind him at the empty room and trying, but to no avail to extinguish the chill running down his spine, feeling as though they were already being watched.

****

The sound of water trickling down the hard-stone walls was the only noise to break the almost deafening silence, hanging heavy like a thick blanket over the room. Small battery-operated lamps were all that permeated the darkness down here, delivering a weak source of light in which Sam was attempting to read by, sat at a small rickety table near the door. Castiel was sitting on the floor in a corner of the room, knees drawn up to his chest. The same troubled expression that plagued him earlier was back as he stared determinedly at a single spot on the ground. Dean was leaning up against a wall, his arms crossed and his shoulders tensed, and The Doctor had resumed his anxious pacing, scuffing his shoes on the concrete floor. Sam's heavy sigh bounced off the walls, and he closed his book, rubbing his face. His eyes found The Doctor.

"What are they?" The question hung in the damp air, two other pairs of eyes locking on to the only moving figure as they waited for the answer to come. The Doctor slowed his motions, bringing one hand up to his hair.

"They're called the Weeping Angels." His reply was met only with confused silence. Once it become apparent that there were no further questions incoming, he continued. "Some used to call them the lonely assassins. They're old, maybe even older than time itself." Dean pushed himself off the wall, sounding tired.

"And they're what? Magic statues?" The Doctor glared at him for a moment before walking over to Sam.

"Can I borrow that?" He gestured to Sam's laptop.

"Uh, sure." Sam pushed it towards him. Dean shuffled over, curiosity besting him. Shoving a hand in his coat pocket, The Doctor brought out his strange blue-lighted device. Pointing it at the black screen, he pressed a button. The sonic screwdriver came to life, whirring for a moment before the laptop lit up, playing a video of The Doctor. Dean eyed the screwdriver enviously.

"Awesome," he remarked before Sam shushed him. Castiel silently peered over Dean's shoulder, having picked himself off the floor to join the others. The Doctor on the laptop screen was speaking.

"...the most perfect defence system ever evolved. They are quantum locked. They don't exist when they're being observed. The moment they are seen by any other living creature they freeze into rock." Dean exhaled sharply.

"You're kidding, how on earth are you supposed to kill-"

"Shh!" Sam's eyes were fixed to the screen. The laptop-Doctor continued.

"In the sight of any living thing they literally turn to stone... and you can't kill a stone. 'Course, a stone can't kill you either, but then you turn your head away... then you blink... and oh yes it can."

"How do they kill you?" Castiel murmured. The Doctor didn't look at him, but answered.

"If you get touched by one, they send you back in time." Sam turned in his chair to look at him.

"Wait-is that what happened to us?" The Doctor nodded, looking upset with himself.

"I should have known then. Most of the time you are doomed to live out your life in a different time, and the angels feed on that energy, all the time you lost, choices and events that never come to be. I was able to come and get you, but I imagine the next time you won't be as lucky." The Doctor on the screen was still speaking, and his next words pulled them out of their thoughts.

"...life could depend on this. Don't blink, don't even blink! Blink and you're dead. They're fast, faster than you can believe. Don't turn your back, don't look away, and don't blink! Good Luck." The screen retuned to black, reflecting the fear that was written on each of their faces. Dean swallowed.

"Okay, this is freaky as hell, but why? What do they want?" The Doctor turned away, hiding his face.

"Me. They're after me. My TARDIS out there has infinite time-energy for them to feed on, its practically a feast." Dean pressed further, clearly not satisfied with the short answers he was receiving.

"But then...why us? What have we got to do with any of this?" The Doctor was silent for what seemed like minutes before replying, his voice so quiet it was almost inaudible.

"They're using you to get to me." This statement was met with more confused silence, which Sam was the first to break.

"Doctor, that makes no sense. We've never met you before now, how is that possible? We don't even know you!" The Doctor turned to face them. He had a strange look upon his face, almost tearful. Dean narrowed his eyes.

"Doctor?" Whatever sort of explanation was going to come out of The Doctor's mouth next never made it; A terrific bang echoed down the halls of the bunker, making them all jump. The sound that followed ripped through the air, a metallic screech that caused the hair on the back of Dean's neck to stand on end. Sam and Castiel covered their ears and shut their eyes tight. The Doctor flung an arm out, backing the three of them up against the back wall of the basement. Then deafening silence.

"They're here," The Doctor almost whispered. The four of them stared at the still-closed door in horror, as the same thought swam to the forefront of their brains. Something had just broken into the bunker.


	5. Chapter 5

Dean's staggered breathing and rapid heartbeat pounding in his ears was all he could hear as he, like his companions, stared in horror at the entrance to the bunker's basement. He felt strangely overwhelmed by an intense fear of what was out there, something he had never seen. A fear of the unknown. They'd faced monsters before, demons, even the end of the world. But for all these horrors there had been a way to deal with them, a book they could read, a weakness to utilize. This time though, they were completely blind, save for the strange man alongside them that had arrived in his strange blue box.

"We have to get out of here," Dean breathed harshly and began hurriedly examining the walls of the small dark room, as if to find some miraculous secret opening, anything to prevent them from facing what was out there. Sam stepped forward, placing a hand on his shoulder and pulling Dean to face him.

"The walls are nothing but thick concrete down here, we're not gonna break out that way."

"Well we have to do something, we're practically sitting ducks in here!" Dean raised his voice, the sound echoing around the basement. The Doctor stepped forward.

"Just calm down, panicking isn't going to help us right now." He said seriously. This didn't sit well with Dean however, who squared up to The Doctor and prodded a finger into his chest, causing him to stumble back slightly.

"Calm down? You don't get to tell me to calm down when _you_ show up out of nowhere and bring all this crap down on our home!" The Doctor looked stung, like he had just been slapped in the face.

"I-I'm sorry, I've just been trying to-"

"To _help_?" Dean scoffed nastily. "Well, you've done a fantastic job so far, thanks a bunch." He didn't hold back his sarcasm as he vented his frustrations. The Doctor didn't attempt to defend himself, casting his eyes towards the floor, almost in shame. Dean opened his mouth to continue.

" _Dean!_ That's enough." Said Sam sharply. He used his height to his advantage, causing Dean to back away from The Doctor, a look of defeat upon his face. Once a considerable distance away, Sam lowered his voice to address his brother. "You are _not_ helping." Dean huffed in protest, passing a hand over his face. Sam hunched his shoulders slightly in order to look his elder brother in the eyes. "I get that you're scared right now. I'm scared too." Dean's vicious stubbornness took hold of him.

"I'm not-"

"But right now," Sam ignored Dean's defiance. "We need to calm down, and focus. Alright? We're all gonna find a way to get out of this bunker." He glanced back at The Doctor pointedly. " _All_ of us. Got it?" Dean finally conceded, nodding ever so slightly. Then someone who hadn't made a sound in quite a while spoke up.

"Dean?" Castiel's voice sounded the same as always, except for a nervous quiver that was ever so slight. All eyes in the room turned to him, making his shift uncomfortably where he stood. He pointed upwards with one hand, to the back-right corner of the room. There was a grill guarding the entrance to an air-vent. "The ventilation shafts are sure to lead outside," Castiel offered quietly. Before anyone could reply, a second metallic bang shook the very room they were in. It sounded closer this time, up against the large iron door they were hiding behind. Rather than scare Dean, as it had the first time, it seemed to jolt him into action.

"Well, there's no time to try anything else, so I'm gonna roll with that," He hurried to the small table and pulled it across the room and into the corner.

"Dean, are you sure...?" Sam worried as he watched his brother scrabble around on one of the bookshelves.

"Well, your ass certainly isn't gonna fit up there, that's for sure." He smirked as he retrieved a small flashlight from a shelf. Now that a plan was in action, Dean's snarky attitude had returned. He felt considerably better about a situation once he was making a move. He jumped up onto the table and tried to rip off the metal grate. He strained for some time, grunting with effort, but it wouldn't give. Just before he was about to try again, The Doctor whistled through his teeth to grab his attention.

"Here, use this." His voice had lost a significant amount of confidence since being confronted by Dean, however he smiled slightly as he extracted his strange device for the third time, and threw it. It spun end over end through the air, Dean quickly reaching out both hands to catch it. He examined it awkwardly.

"Uh, how exactly am I supposed to use this?"

"Just..." The Doctor gestured to the metal grate. "Point and think."

"Point and think..." Dean mumbled to himself as he aimed the sonic screwdriver at one end of the vent covering and clicked the only button on it. The blue light on the end came to life, whirring softly. A moment later, a loud _clunk_ was heard, before the grate swung open, held on by its hinges. Dean marvelled for a moment at the device in his hand.

"Did...I just do that?" He asked, to no one in particular.

"Yep." Said The Doctor brightly, his former self returning slightly as he saw he did something helpful.

"Awesome," Dean grinned, but was shaken out of his thoughts by a poignant cough from Sam.

"Alright, alright." He threw the sonic screwdriver back to The Doctor, who caught it deftly with one hand. He then removed his thick leather jacket, exposing a white t-shirt underneath. He threw his coat to Castiel for him to catch. "You look after that with your life." Castiel nodded, deadpan, and Dean gave him an almost undetectable wink in reply. He finally lifted his arms and hoisted himself up into the vent in one swift movement, and stuck his head out one last time to address the group. "If I'm not back in ten minutes," He urged seriously. "Just wait longer." Dean finished with a cheeky grin before pulling his head back. Small thuds could be heard as dean began to crawl away from them.

"Good luck," Sam called after him.

"And be careful!" Castiel raised his voice louder for Dean to hear.

"Yeah, yeah, okay mom." Dean's sarcastic comment came echoing through the vent, making Cas smile and breaking through some of the anxiety in the room. Sam sighed and slid down the wall to sit on the floor, facing the door. The Doctor did the same, twirling his sonic screwdriver between his fingers, just so that he could do something to occupy his hands. Castiel remained standing, his eyes moving in a steady pattern from the door to his two remaining companions, a silent protector, observing the most minute movements and sounds.

Now all there was left to do was wait. 


	6. Chapter 6

Dean took in sharp, shallow breaths in order to save the little air he had as he commando-crawled on his belly through the ventilation shaft. His hands struggled to find purchase on the slippery metal surface, and the sweat on his palms wasn't helping. His tiny flashlight pierced through the pitch-blackness, giving him just enough visibility to navigate his way. The suffocating anxiety that came with claustrophobia was barely being held at bay as Dean tried his hardest to occupy his mind. He had been in trickier, tighter situations than this, he thought, reasoning with himself. If he had survived small tunnels, caves, even being buried alive, he could get through this. _Nothing to it_ , he told himself. It was quiet in here, the only sounds Dean could hear were his own shallow breathing and the occasional thud of metal as he continued on his way, tortuously slow. He didn't get much farther, though, before his flashlight began to flicker on and off. Dean had lived and worked long enough in his profession to know that almost one-hundred percent of the time, this meant nothing good.

"Come on..." he whispered to himself as he smacked the flashlight a few times, hoping it was just your ordinary, run-of-the-mill malfunction. His hopes were dashed, however, and what happened next happened incredibly fast. The sound of screeching metal filled Dean's ears, causing him to gasp in surprise. The sound grew closer, as though something was following him. No, chasing him. He quickened his pace, the flickering light making it hard to concentrate. He crawled faster, reaching desperately in front of him for some kind of leverage to keep him from slipping. The sound grew closer still, gaining on him with every second. Dean had no choice but to cover his ears in protection from the deafening noise. He even tried screaming, but he couldn't hear himself. Then-

Silence. Dean raised his head, removing his hands from his ears. Twisting uncomfortably, he manoeuvred himself to look behind him, and he lifted the now working flashlight to aid his sight. He almost wished he hadn't looked. The floor of the vent behind him was a wreck. The very metal he had been crawling on had been ripped clean through in long, nasty claw marks, running all the way up to where Dean now lay. "Holy crap..." His breath shook as he surveyed what had just missed him. He peered into the darkness behind him, and saw nothing. _Don't move, don't move, don't move_ , was all he could think, although every other muscle in his body was screaming at him to get away. After a few painstakingly slow moments, Dean chose to listen to the latter. There was no other way to go but forward. With this logic planted firmly in his skull, he shuffled his body back to its original position in order for him to continue moving. He had been crawling for barely a second before-

" _Argh!_ " A sharp _bang_ echoed through the vents, causing Dean to cover his head with his arms. Then he felt it. Something cold was gripping his ankle. Looking back once more, the little air he had left in his lungs flew out of him in fear, as he stared at the gnarled stone hand sticking up through the bottom of the vent, holding his leg in a death-grip. Panic began to set in as he pulled with all his strength, but it was no use. He tried kicking at it with his other foot, but he yelped in pain as his toes collided with the thick hard rock. _Don't blink. Don't even blink._ The Doctor's words came flooding back to him as he stared at the hand preventing his escape. There's no way this thing could move. Could it? Dean began to feel lightheaded from lack of oxygen, and almost as if on cue, his eyes began to sting. _I never got to thank Cas for looking after my jacket,_ he thought, and wondered if that would be his final one.

_-10 minutes earlier-_

Sam took a sidelong glance at the man sitting next to him, still playing absent-mindedly with the sonic screwdriver between his fingers and keeping his eyes fixed unwaveringly on the door. He wondered if it was a nervous tick, a reflex to calm his mind. The silence was uncomfortable, with many unanswered questions swimming in the air, so Sam shifted slightly, clearing his throat.

"Doctor?"

"Mmm?" The Doctor did not turn to look at him. Figuring that would have to do, Sam pressed on.

"What did you mean? Before. You said these angels were using us to get to you." He chose his words slowly and carefully, keeping his eyes trained on The Doctor's face, trying to gauge his reaction. The time before the Doctor's answer was long and drawn out, until finally he let out a deep sigh, lowering his head towards the floor.

"There's...a reason your brother thought he had seen me before." Sam didn't know how to respond to this, so he stayed silent, waiting. "It's because he most likely... _has_...seen me before." The Doctor's words were staggered, like he was struggling to find them as he spoke. Sam turned to face him, resting his arms on his drawn-up knees.

"What are you saying?" The Doctor turned his head at last, locking eyes with Sam, who was surprised looking back. They were tired eyes, eyes that had seen too much. Sam recognised them, as he often saw them staring back at him when he looked into a mirror. The Doctor's face was young, but his eyes...they were old.

"I've been...following you. Watching you, for quite a while now." His voice was filled with shame, something that contrasted greatly with The Doctor they first met; playful, confident.

"But...why?" Sam could only ask. The Doctor took a deep breath.

"I've had...friends. People that travelled with me." His voice was laced with pain. "But it went wrong. Some left, some forgot, and some are lost forever." His voice broke, and The Doctor coughed hurriedly before looking sharply away.

"What about your family? Your kind, what about the other Timelords?" Sam pressed. The Doctor smiled, although there was no happiness to be found on his face.

"I'm the last of the Timelords." Sam looked to his feet.

"I'm sorry." Was all he could think to say. The Doctor sniffed.

"I've done things, things I'm not proud of. I've been travelling alone too long. And then," He looked over at Sam, the tiniest spark returning to his worn-out features. "I found you. The Winchesters who laugh in the face of death and destruction, who criss-cross the country in search of evil to vanquish. Saving people, hunting things." The Doctor chuckled softly, picking at his shoelaces. "I think I see an awful lot of myself in you and Dean. You're determined, steadfast," His eyes met Sam's. "And you lost everything," The Doctor said softly. "And I'm sorry too." Sam nodded. He wanted to say something then, but realised he didn't need to, as a strong mutual understanding connected between the two of them. The room lapsed into a comfortable silence that would have lasted quite a while longer, if they hadn't been interrupted. A far away crash, accompanied by a scream of terror.

 _"Argh!"_ Sam and The Doctor's heads whipped up to attention. Castiel, who had been silent during the entire exchange, stumbled forward.

"Dean." He breathed in horror, and made no hesitation in running for the door. Sam leapt to his feet.

"Cas, _no!_ " He yelled, but there was no stopping him. He reached the heavy iron door and wrenched it open, only to fall back on the floor with a yelp. The angel towered over him, standing right in the doorway. Its mouth was open grotesquely, and its face was contorted into what would have been a sickening screech, if it had not been made of solid stone. It reached its hands forward, sharp fingernails clawing at the empty air. Castiel scrambled to his feet.

"Don't blink, just keep looking at it!" The Doctor warned, his voice unsteady. Castiel, instead of backing up to join the others, pressed forward, squeezing his body through a gap between the doorframe and the weeping angel, and disappeared with a swish of his trench coat.

"CAS! Wait!" Sam called after him, but nothing he could say would bring him back. Raking both hands through his hair, Sam struggled to find his breath in fear.

"I've got this one, you go get him." The Doctor urged, not taking his eyes off the monster before them.

"I can't just leave you-" Sam began to protest.

"Go, now!" His sharp, commanding voice sent Sam stumbling towards the terrifying stone figure. He bent down and squeezed his stomach in, just to fit through the small space before running down the halls of the bunker in desperate pursuit of his friend.

****

Castiel ran, his breath burning in his lungs as he tripped down the long hallways, following the source of the yell. Dean's brown leather jacket was still bundled up tight in his arms, but that didn't even cross his mind for a second.

"DEAN!" He yelled as loud as he could, his voice sounding deafening to his own ears. _Not him, not him, please not him,_ he couldn't help thinking, over and over. It might have been the warding, or pure fear: but Castiel was hyper-aware of all the feelings taking place in his vessel. His pounding heart, the ringing in his ears, the burn in his lungs. If he didn't know any better, he would say he felt more...human. His thoughts were shaken, however, by the muffled yell that came back to him.

"CAS?!" Castiel gasped as Dean's panicked voice reached his ears, and doubled his pace as he bounded up a small flight of stairs two at a time, tripping and catching himself more than once. He reached the source of the noise and barrelled through the door before him without a second thought. There, on the right side of the room was another angel, even taller and more hideous than the last, reaching a hand up and breaking though the solid metal of the ventilation shaft. Castiel barely had time to take a breath before the door slammed shut behind him, as if blown by a strong gust of wind that didn't exist. His eyes fluttered shut for just a second in reaction. In that split second, the angel had retracted its hand, and lunged toward him, though he never saw it move. Castiel's back hit the cold brick wall and he yelped as he found the stone monstrosity inches from his face. Its mouth snarled open, showing its sharp teeth, and a single gnarled hand gripped the front of his coat leaving him no means to escape.

" _Cas?!_ Are you in there? Open the door!" Sam's voice called desperately from the other side of the door. Castiel's voice was surprisingly steady as he answered.

"I can't, Sam, it's locked me in here."

"Just hang on, and _don't take your eyes off it!_ " The doorknob rattled, sounding like Sam was attempting to pick the lock. Castiel felt very strange all of a sudden, as a fresh new emotion overwhelmed him.

"I'm sorry, Sam. This is all my fault." His voice shook as he thought of Dean, trapped up there because of _him_. It was his idea to escape through the vents, his stupid idea. And because of that, Dean was in grave danger. He grasped the jacket tighter in his arms.

"Cas, what are you talking about?" Sam's voice sounded panicked as he continued trying to get the door open, now pounding on it with his fists. Castiel stared into the angel's murderous eyes, and felt his own begin to sting, and to his surprise, fill with tears.

"It was my idea. I made him go up there. And now we're all in trouble." He was so _stupid_ , he thought. He always messed things up, got in the way. And now, people he cared about...no. People he _loved_ were going to pay for it. Castiel bit his lip as a tear rolled down his face and splashed onto dean's beloved jacket. He wasn't even good enough to give that back to him.

"Cas, whatever you're thinking, stop it! Right now!" Sam's voice came again, pleading this time. A loud thud shook the door, again and again. Sam was trying to break the door down. Castiel finally let out a choked sob.

"Tell Dean I'm sorry." He whispered, and his eyes began to close.


	7. Chapter 7

"CAS! GET DOWN! Sam yelled as a final crash sent him stumbling into the room. Castiel's eyes flew open and he did what he was told, slipping roughly out of his coat and dropping to the floor, burying his head in his arms. It was then that Cas expected to hear a horrible scream, or see a flash of white light before finding himself in a strange new place, lost again, but this time forever. His body tensed, waiting. But instead, all he heard was Sam.

"Cas, It's okay. You can get up now. Look, Cas!" He felt Sam's hand grab his shoulder and shake it roughly. Castiel slowly raised his head, as if he had just survived a bomb blast. The angel was still there, holding his coat without him in it. Still breathing shallowly in fear, he began to hurriedly scramble backwards on his hands and feet. Anything to get away from the horror in front of him, but Sam pulled him to his feet. "No, Cas, it's okay. Look!" He did, and then he understood. Behind where Castiel had been standing, hung a small mirror. When he had escaped, it left the stone angel staring into it. Somehow, it looked even angrier than before, but despite this, Cas felt his fear slowly fading.

"The mirror," Cas sounded dumbfounded. Sam exhaled sharply.

"It's looking at itself. It can't move anymore." Castiel closed his eyes and let out a deep breath, as if for the past while he had been holding it in. Reaching a hand up to his face, he felt the wetness on his cheeks and hastily wiped it away, blushing profusely. He didn't want Sam to think he was weak. Though he felt Sam already knew and understood, as he clapped a hand on Castiel's shoulder.

"It's okay now, Cas. We're okay." He nodded silently before his urgency returned.

"And Dean?" he asked worriedly.

"I heard him crawl away after you distracted it," Sam explained, gesturing to the stone figure. "He'll be okay, soon we won't be locked in here anymore. But first we need to get back to The Doctor," Sam grabbed Castiel's wrist and began to tug him out of the room and down the corridor, back the way they had come. "I left him in the basement with one of those things. We gotta hurry." Castiel nodded as they quickened their pace, jogging down the hallway. He looked down at Dean's slightly crinkled jacket, still bundled up in his arms. Dean did tell his to protect it with his life, after all. He held it tighter to his chest as he ran, only hoping that in these few short moments, he would have enough time to recollect his racing thoughts.

****

"You sure are a talkative one, aren't you?" The Doctor sat facing the second weeping angel, legs stretched out in front of him and crossed over themselves. If someone else were to see him, they might have even said he looked relaxed. Strangely enough this was also the truth, as The Doctor had a plan. He certainly didn't expect the statue to talk back to him, so he let slip a small smile before he continued. "You're probably wondering why I'm not running, or shaking in fear. Cause that's what you want, don't you? You like to play with your food before you eat it." The Doctor's anger was masked by a thin layer of witty sarcasm, which made him all the more terrifying to his enemies. "I'm not going to give you the satisfaction. In fact," The Doctor stood up slowly, keeping his eyes fixed on the angel, not permitting it to move an inch. "I'm gonna give you something better." He jerked his head sharply toward the door.

"That little blue box out there? It's full to the brim with time energy, more than enough for you and your kind to feed on for millennia. Everything that could have been, all that ever was and will be. It's all there for you to gorge on. Just think of it," The Doctor began to slowly pace the room, a force of habit to help him focus, though his eyes didn't move from their position. "All those lost memories, unfulfilled prophecies, broken dreams. It's an all-you-can-eat in there. And oh, look!" The Doctor badly feigned surprise, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his small silver key. "Looks as though I forgot to lock the darn thing. Now why don't you go and take her for a spin?" He strode fearlessly up to the angel and clapped a hand to its stone shoulder, like a father gifting his son a car on the night of his first prom. Then, with a sneaky grin, The Doctor blinked. His hand hovered over empty air, where the angel had just been. He dropped his arm as voices and hurried feet could be heard travelling down the corridor. Sam and Castiel rounded the corner and came into view, breathing quickly and with nervous expressions on their faces.

"Doctor, you're okay." Sam sighed with relief. "Where's the other one? How did you-?" The Doctor smiled mysteriously.

"Just had a friendly chat is all," He turned to Castiel patting him a little too hard on the back, making him jump in alarm. "Good to see you're okay, Cassie." Castiel's eyebrows furrowed.

"That's...not-"

" _Anyway,_ " The Doctor cut in before anyone could protest to his strange mood. "The angels are going to try and take my TARDIS. Which of course, I wouldn't let anyone do over my dead body. Which is rare, for me." A small chuckle escaped his lips, causing Sam to exchange a quizzical look with Castiel. "So, this is what's going to happen." The Doctor pulled out his sonic screwdriver and flicking it end over end in the air before catching it lazily again with one hand.

"Now I need you two to listen very closely..."

****

Dean gasped as he fell forward onto muddy ground. His shoulder ached dully from when he just used it to ram open the metal grate covering the exit to the vent. Rolling over, he lay there for a moment and closed his eyes, feeling the cold wind and rain on his face before slowly getting to his feet. He winced slightly as he stretched out his cramping arms and legs. He had made it. His silent celebration, however, was abruptly cut off by a sharp ring and a vibration against his thigh. His phone. Dean felt awkwardly in his pockets before extracting it, slightly damp from a mixture of rain and sweat. He answered it breathlessly.

"...Hello?"

"Dean?" The girl's voice on the end of the line was soft and timid. "It's Patience. I know its late, but I didn't know who else to-"

"Patience?" Dean cut her off in surprise. "Listen, I'm a bit, uh...busy...with something at the moment. I'll call you back, okay? He anxiously scanned the surfaces of the outside of the bunker for some sort of panel that might contain the controls to overriding the lockdown. He had to do this, fast. He thought of Sam and Cas trapped down there with those... _things_ , and his stomach flipped. The image of that horrible, clawed hand grabbing his foot hadn't yet left his mind. The other end of the phone was silent for a moment.

"I know, and I'm sorry, but you know I wouldn't call if it wasn't important." Patience said, her tone almost pleading, and Dean could tell something was wrong.

"Alright, alright. Just keep talking to me while I do this." His fingers trailed across a plate of smooth metal on the wall. He knocked on it with one fist. Patience sounded awkward.

"Well...I had this dream. And after last time, I guess I'm scared. Claire thinks I'm overreacting, but I have this feeling I just can't shake." Dean rummaged in his pockets again. He knew from his experiences with Sam many years ago that dreams weren't always just dreams. He pulled out a lockpick and began to work on the small keyhole, tilting his head to the side to keep the phone to his ear while his two hands were occupied.

"Go on, I'm listening."

"Okay. Well, I think you and Sam should come over. It's...it's about Jodie." Dean paused then, his head perking up and almost dropping his phone.

"Jodie? She's okay, right?"

"She's fine. I mean, I dreamt about her. Like, _dreamt.._.about her. You know what I mean." Dean hummed in agreement.

"Yeah, I do. Listen, Patience. I wouldn't stress too much about it tonight, alright? Just keep it together, and we'll be there first thing in the morning." Patience audibly sighed in relief.

"Thank you, Dean." A small _click_ could be heard from the lock as the metal panel swung open, and a small _yes!_ sounded within Dean's head. He straightened up to finish the call.

"Don't mention it. Anyway, I _really_ have to go now, so stay safe and I'll be in touch."

"Got it." Patience's tone held slightly more confidence, as if Dean had given her some through the phone. "Be safe, whatever it is you're doing." Dean chuckled under his breath before ending the call.

"Always am."


	8. Chapter 8

All was quiet inside the TARDIS, save for the rhythmic hum emanating from its walls. Four intruders stood towering over the complex control panel, malicious intent spread across their frozen features. The Doctor, however, was watching. He stood in the shadows on the edge of the room, leaning up against a pillar with his arms crossed.

"Nice turnout," His voice bounced around the empty space. "This all of you?" As if in response to his words, the lights illuminating the room flickered and died, plunging the TARDIS into blackness. "Aw, come on, don't be like that," The Doctor pouted jokingly, though he pushed himself up and shuffled back a few paces. "Don't you want to know how I got in here?" He called into the darkness. A few moments later, light returned. The angel's heads had moved, now turned toward him as though they were listening. That was all The Doctor needed. He reached into his pocket, pulling out his sonic screwdriver, and waved it somewhat tantalisingly in the air. "Those controls aren't the only thing that can move the TARDIS, you know." He flipped it in the air, catching it again. "Materialised her to me. Impressive, right?" He flashed a grin to his stone audience who, of course, didn't move an inch. "Tough crowd..." The Doctor mumbled, feigning offence before returning the screwdriver to his pocket. Clapping his hands together sharply, he continued.

"Anyway! To the main order of business," The Doctor walked forward cautiously, all while retaining a face of calm and confidence. "You want to take my ship. Did you _really_ think I was going to just give it to you?" He shook his head condescendingly. "And besides, that time-juice in here you're craving? It's nothing compared to what's inside me." The Doctor stopped, holding out his arms. "Nine-hundred and six years of life, all right here. Millions of timelines, realities, universes. I've seen things you would never believe. Worlds beyond comprehension, teeming with life. I've seen the end of civilisations, I even saw the end of mine. All that lost potential, dreams that never came to be. All in here." He pointed to his head. "Bet your mouths are watering just thinking about it, eh?" The Doctor stared unrelentingly at the angels, anger barely hidden behind his witty façade. "All I can say is...well done. You almost managed to trap me. Element of surprise, and all that. But you made one fatal mistake. You lot always do." He strode up to the nearest angel, squaring his shoulders in order to make himself look taller, and with a look of deadly seriousness upon his face.

"You messed with people I care about." The Doctor's voice wasn't raised, it was low and harsh, making it all the more intimidating. "And of course, I'm sure you know what happens next. I gather you've heard the stories." If the angels could move, it would be at this point that they lunged for The Doctor, murder in their eyes. But it was The Doctor's unwavering ones that held them in place, preventing any chance of movement.

"Sam? If you could do the honours," The Doctor called out, turning his head slightly to the side, but not letting the angels out of his sight. Sam and Castiel raised their heads from where they were hidden behind the centre panel. Sam did as he was told, reaching up a hand and firmly pulling down a lever above him. Almost immediately the TARDIS began to whine and shake, the lights flickering slightly. "Hold on to something!" The Doctor called out above the din, causing Sam and Cas to hurriedly grasp onto the railing behind them. "Oh! And one more teensy lesson before you go," The Doctor addressed his adversaries as he held out a hand at arms-length, and placed his thumb and middle finger together. A smirk made its way across his face, quirking at his lips.

"Never catch me when I'm monologing." The world seemed to go silent as he clicked his fingers. The TARDIS doors swung open, and the sight before them would stay in Sam's mind forever. A dark, swirling mass of nothingness, lit up by streaks of brilliant fire-like orange. It looked almost like a never-ending tunnel, swallowing up all life, even time seemed to have no meaning out there. A moment later, a strong wind began to howl, sucking the air out of the TARDIS. The Doctor hastily grabbed onto the railing next to him as the unrelenting force pulled at them, causing their feet to fly out from underneath them. It was as if the blackness was pulling them in, wanting nothing more than to swallow them whole. It was then that the stone angels began to teeter. As the wind grew stronger, one by one, they fell. Their hands clawed desperately at the air as they were thrown violently out of the TARDIS, into the void. The final angel smashed against the side of the door on its way out, an arm breaking from its body before it was swallowed up by the darkness.

"Sam..." Sam looked beside him and saw Castiel gritting his teeth as he struggled to hold on to the metal railing. He glanced at Sam, fear written across his face before his fingers gave out and he began to fall.

"Cas!" Sam desperately flung out an arm, and Castiel grabbed hold of it as he fell closer to the angry hole of blackness and fire. "I've got you." He gasped before yelling out again. "Doctor, hurry!" Sam screamed, half out of desperation and half due to the pain and awkward angle of his arm holding Cas' weight, making it feel like it was breaking. The Doctor held out his hand again, holding on tight with the other, and clicked his fingers again. At once, the TARDIS doors swung shut, the wind ceased, and all three of them fell painfully to the ground. There was silence, then, broken only by sharp gasps as they struggled to catch their breath.

"Ow..." The Doctor whined before slowly getting to his feet. Sam and Cas did the same, wincing slightly.

"What...was that? Out there," Sam asked, holding his aching shoulder.

"The time vortex." The Doctor raised his hands, attempting to get his messy brown hair under control. "It's what I travel through, though no one's meant to go out there. Those angels won't be bothering anyone for quite some time, I'd say." Castiel closed his eyes and took a shaky breath, clearly relieved. Sam's eyebrows were furrowed, something still bothering him.

"How...how did you know that was going to work?" The Doctor flushed, and scratched the back of his head sheepishly.

"Um...well...I-"

"Doctor?"

"I didn't. 


	9. Chapter 9

The TARDIS door swung open once again, the creak filling the empty bunker. The only other sound that could be heard was the soft patter of rain falling steadily from outside. The Doctor, Sam and Castiel tumbled out in a hurry, all looking equally dishevelled. Castiel took a few shaky steps before collapsing into a chair, holding his head up with one hand. Dean's jacket hadn't left his person, now laying crumpled in his lap. Sam let out a deep breath before taking a seat opposite him, still gingerly rubbing his arm. It was a moment before Sam spoke.

"What about the other one? We left it in a room not far from the basement, but it can't move." The Doctor opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off abruptly by the sound of humming electricity. The three of them raised their heads as the lights around them flickered before brightening, filling the bunker with the homely, comforting feeling it once had. Castiel stood up so fast his chair toppled backwards with a wooden clunk. The bunker was no longer in lockdown. They were free.

"Dean!" Cas didn't hesitate as he scrambled for the staircase, bounding up them two at a time. Sam stumbled to his feet before following closely at his heels. The Doctor wrung his hands together anxiously. He felt strangely guilty after his heated exchange with Dean back in the basement. He hadn't known him for long, but he had seen for himself. Seen how much value Dean placed on family, and the idea that family definitely didn't end in blood. The Doctor had gone without family for a long time, so long that he had almost forgotten what it meant. He had had small moments, sparks of light that broke through the drought, but soon enough they too were taken away. _Just like everything else,_ The Doctor thought as his mind wandered to dark places scattered with cold beaches and blonde hair that would forever be out of reach. He shook his head as the sound of the bunker door opening brought him back to the surface of his brain, and took a deep breath before slowly following Sam and Castiel up the staircase.

The door opened slowly, revealing a wet and bedraggled Dean, rubbing his bare arms to retain warmth. He stared at Sam and Cas' dumbfounded expression before stepping forward.

"So, what'd I miss?" Dean smiled weakly. This caused Castiel to suddenly rush forward and hug Dean tight. Dean looked taken aback for a moment, arms hanging limply by his sides before he slowly and tentatively wrapped them around Cas' torso.

"Dean, I'm sorry. The vents, it was my fault. I thought...I thought-" Dean shushed him quietly, and Cas stopped babbling.

"It's okay, Cas. I'm okay. We're all okay now." Dean relaxed more into the hug.

"You're sweaty," Castiel mumbled into Dean's shoulder.

"Yeah, well, running from monsters in a confined space will do that to you," Dean chuckled. "I'm glad you're okay, buddy." He said, pulling away slightly so that he could look him in the eyes.

"Me too." Cas' reply was barely a whisper. He then awkwardly shuffled back slightly and lifted up Dean's brown leather jacket. "Here." Dean's face lit up.

"Ahh, I knew I could count on you to take my request so seriously," Dean smirked as shrugged the coat onto his body. "Thanks Cas, I owe you one." Castiel nodded humbly, his eyes cast to the floor. Dean stepped further into the bunker and looked up at his younger brother. "Have fun without me?" He joked. Sam just rolled his eyes before pulling him into a hug.

"It was quiet, I'll give you that." He slapped Dean on the back before straightening up. Dean's eyes then fell on the only person left in the room. The Doctor locked eyes with Dean, and unseen tension could already be sensed in the room, like a string pulled tight. The silence lasted uncomfortably long before The Doctor began to retreat down the stairs.

"I'll just, uh...go deal with that last one." He nodded at Sam before turning on his heel and heading for the TARDIS, just a little too quickly for it to be natural. Sam, Dean and Castiel watched as it disappeared from view, and waited for the now familiar whooshing sound to subside. Castiel began to descend the stairs, and Sam and Dean followed.

"Hey uh, Dean?" Sam probed gently.

"Mmm?" Sam took that noise as his cue to continue.

"You're not still mad at The Doctor, are you. He saved our lives back here, while you were gone." They reached the bottom of the stairs and made to sit down at the main table. Dean responded with more silence. Sam huffed as he sat down, leaning forward to address Dean, his hands clasped in front of him. "Look, I think you need to cut him some slack here. He told me things..." He paused as Dean raised his eyes slightly. "Things that only people...people like _us_ would understand. Remember what he said he was? All of his kind are dead. Gone. He knows what it's like to lose everything." Dean shifted in his seat.

"I... didn't know." Remorse flashed across his eyes.

"All I'm saying is that he's not so different from us, and if he weren't here today, we'd still be stuck in the past, or worse." Dean nodded, seeming to understand. The return of The Doctor's presence was then announced by the slight wind accompanied by a soft wheezing, as the TARDIS once again came into view. Sam gave Dean a meaningful look before its door swung open, revealing a nervous Doctor with his hands shoved deep in his coat pockets.

"So, I got rid of that last angel for you. Angry little fella, wasn't he? Anyway, that seems like the lot of them." The Doctor seemed to run out of things to say. Scratching the back of his head, he cleared his throat. "Listen, Dean-"

"No. Doctor," Dean stood up and approached him, his shoulders relaxed and his stance vastly different than from their last encounter. "I'm sorry. About back there in the basement. I was scared, and stressed... and I shouldn't have said the things I said. You saved all our asses today, so," Dean looked up at him sincerely. "Thank you." The Doctor's eyes widened slightly in surprise, but Dean wasn't finished. "And Sam told me about your kind. Your people. I know what it's like to lose something like that, and I'm sorry. So," Dean stepped towards The Doctor with his hand outstretched. "No hard feelings?" It took a moment for his words to reach The Doctor, who looked rather stunned, as if this was the exact opposite outcome of how he imagined this exchange would go. After he had recovered, The Doctor grasped Dean's hand tentatively but firmly, and shook.

"No hard feelings." A small smile quirked at the corner of his lips. Dean then released The Doctor's hand and clapped his together sharply.

"Right, then! All that mushy crap out of the way? Good! Cause I'm starving." Dean fished his phone out of his pocket and scrambled out of the room. Sam rolled his eyes to the ceiling in exasperation.

"He's always like that when he's hungry." Sam pulled out a chair next to him and gestured for The Doctor to sit. He did as he was told, stretching out his long legs under the table.

"Well, that certainly went better than expected," The Doctor lowered his voice to talk to Sam beside him. "For a moment there I thought he might kill me. Or at least try." Sam snorted and shook his head.

"He acts big and tough, but he's a bit of a teddy bear on the inside." Sam smiled. "Don't tell him I said that." The Doctor raised his hands.

"Wouldn't dream of it. Seriously though," He leaned closer to Sam. "I really am sorry for all this trouble I caused you." Sam shook his head.

"No apology needed. You're one of us now. You're a friend, and you know how seriously we take that. Besides," He smirked at the dumbstruck expression that had made its way onto The Doctor's face. "We're pretty hard to get rid of." They slipped into a comfortable silence, which lasted a moment before Dean stuck his head back into the room, his phone pressed to his ear.

"Who wants pizza?"


	10. Chapter 10

The smell of warm pizza dough filled the air, and the bunker was more alive with conversation than it had for a long while. The Doctor, Sam and Castiel sat around the table, ate and watched Dean, who had assumed his regular position on his chair, tilting it back on two legs as he stuffed as much food as he could greedily into his mouth. Sam glared at him.

"...What?" The word was lost due to the unnatural amount of pizza in his mouth. Castiel chuckled softly and shook his head. Swallowing guiltily, Dean hastily turned the attention away from himself. "So, Doctor," He said, licking sauce off his fingers and ignoring another pointed look from his brother. "I have another question." The Doctor leaned forward on his elbows, clearly ready to explain any difficult concept that was thrown at him.

"Yes?" Dean pointed behind him, where the TARDIS sat, calm and dormant.

"The sign on the front says 'pull to open.' So why do you push?" The Doctor coughed, clearly caught off guard, but composed himself rather quickly.

"I've never been a stickler for rules," he smiled. "Wanna know how I got the TARDIS in the first place?" The rest of the company nodded. "I stole her." The Doctor grinned smugly. Dean whistled, impressed.

"I think we have more in common than I first thought." This seemed to please The Doctor, who leaned back, contented. The rest of the meal carried on in a similar fashion, with the brothers recalling exciting and thrilling encounters with the supernatural, while The Doctor listened attentively. He too, told the three boys stories of his adventures, of far-away planets and exotic civilisations, and they hung on to every word. It was a while later before Dean suddenly remembered the conversation he had with Patience outside the bunker, and a wave of guilt washed over him for not bringing it up sooner. He dusted the pizza crumbs off his hands before leaning forward to address the group.

"So, I got a call from Patience earlier." Sam raised his head, concerned.

"Patience? She's okay, right?"

"Yeah, she's fine. Just seemed pretty upset about a dream she had." Sam looked pointedly at him. Of course, he of all people knew what that meant. Dean continued before he could be cut off again. "So, if this whole...thing...that happened tonight is over," He looked anxiously over at The Doctor, who nodded firmly to indicate it was. "Then I vote we drive out to Sioux Falls tomorrow morning, see if we can do anything to help, you know?" Sam nodded, eyebrows furrowed.

"Agreed." Dean then turned to The Doctor, catching him off guard with his next offer.

"You're coming too, right Doctor?" The Doctor made a strangled noise of surprise before composing himself well enough to speak.

"No, no, I couldn't. I'd only get in the way." He seemed to shrink in on himself, contrasting rather strongly with the air of confidence he had first displayed upon his initial meeting with the brothers. Dean looked him in the eyes seriously, making him shift uncomfortably in his chair.

"We could end up needing your help." The Doctor blinked rapidly, clearly conflicted. Part of him leapt at the opportunity for company, having spent way too long travelling on his own. The other half, however was pulling him in the other direction, pleading for him not to become attached with his new acquaintances. _You know how this ends,_ said a nasty little voice in his ear, urging him along the road of loneliness that had so far kept him safe from further emotional harm. The Doctor battled with the voices in his mind for a moment, before mentally smacking the latter one upside the head and telling it to shut its mouth. He had lived in fear of it for far too long. The Doctor took a deep breath.

"Okay then. If I can be of any assistance, I'll join you." Dean clapped his hands together.

"Perfect. I wasn't gonna let you say no anyway." Dean took another massive bite of pizza before letting the table lapse into a comfortable silence. The night moved on slowly, till both Sam and Dean were stifling yawns behind their hands.

"Well, I'm gonna call it a night," Sam mumbled, rubbing his face. Dean grunted in agreement, rising from his chair.

"God knows we need it after today." Dean clapped Castiel on the shoulder, making him jump slightly before slowly shuffling after Sam and heading to their rooms. "Don't wake me unless we're in mortal danger," Dean waved a lazy hand behind him at Cas and The Doctor before the noise of dragging feet faded away down the hall, leaving them sitting in silence at the table. A few moments passed before The Doctor's face brightened.

"Oh! I almost forgot." He jumped to his feet and scurried off into the TARDIS, without giving Castiel time to react. He waited patiently until a creak of the TARDIS door announced his re-entry. He strode back to the table, holding Castiel's trench-coat, neatly folded. "Here. I had to wrestle it off that last angel, but I managed." Cas tentatively reached his arms out to receive it, gratefulness washing over him at the sight of something so familiar and comfortable.

"Thank you." He replied sincerely, swinging the coat immediately round his shoulders. The Doctor then reclaimed his seat opposite, holding his head up with his hands.

"Not tired?" he asked, wanting to engage in conversation with Cas, who had spoken so little since they had met. To his surprise, Castiel let out a soft chuckle.

"My kind don't need to sleep, strictly speaking." He picked absent-mindedly at a loose string on the fabric of his coat. "Plus, I like to be alert in case Sam or Dean ever need me." He added more softly. The Doctor nodded slightly, interest piqued.

"And what kind is that?" Castiel tensed slightly before answering, his voice low and gravelly.

"I am an angel of The Lord." The Doctor raised his eyebrows.

" _The_ Lord? I mean, there are plenty of Gods out there, I guess it seems logical that there would be... _God_ , you know?" He reasoned with himself for a moment before his curiosity returned in full force. "What's he like, then?" The Doctor leaned forward on his elbows like an excited child asking for a story.

"He is... distant, to say the least." Castiel sounded uncomfortable, like anything negative he said would be held against him. "Our relationship is... difficult." The Doctor seemed to struggle in finding his next words. Castiel took the silence to speak up, biting his bottom lip nervously.

"Um... about what you said. Before. About what happened to your people." The Doctor's expression softened as he listened. "I wanted to say back then that I might know how you feel. Most of my people want me dead." Castiel continued twining his fingers in his coat as The Doctor watched his face intently.

"Must be lonely," He mused, and Castiel nodded.

"It's okay though. I have a family, here." A small smile quirked at his lips. "When I met Dean, I was very different. And lost. I had no idea what loyalty meant, or love. All I knew was following orders, and completing my mission, whatever it took. And that caused me to do some horrible things. But being here," He gestured around him. "Being with humans, being with...Dean, its changed me. I think I'm more... human now. And I like it this way more than anything else in the world." Castiel's gaze dropped, heat filling his face as he realised he had been talking for a while. "Sorry, rambling." He mumbled an apology.

"No, no, it's nice to hear someone else's voice other than my own for a change." The Doctor grinned cheekily. "Humans are really something special, aren't they?" Castiel smiled fondly.

"Yes, they really are." It was after then that the two fell into silence. It wasn't awkward, with either not knowing what to say, nor was it tense. It was simply just... silence. With two people who didn't need sleep sitting comfortably in their own thoughts, their slow breathing mixing with the muffled sounds of the rain outside, each keeping the other company through the night. 


	11. Chapter 11

"Cas, all I'm saying is, just because you don't have to eat, doesn't mean you _can't_." Dean whined at Castiel from the other side of an enormous stack of pancakes.

"Do _all_ your emotions stem from food?" The Doctor piped up from his seat in the corner of the room, surrounded by books detailing the supernatural. Dean shot him an icy glare.

"Shut it, skinny." This caused The Doctor to smirk before returning to reading through his black-rimmed reading glasses.

"...Guys? It's too early for this crap," Sam emerged from the corridor, yawning and rubbing his eyes. "Dean, leave Cas alone, would you?"

"Don't worry, Sam." Castiel spoke. Dean's face lit up as he watched him grab the plate from the middle of the table and pull the pancakes toward him. He took in a deep breath, eyes closed. "It certainly smells...pleasurable." Dean let out a sharp bark of laughter.

"Dude, word choice." Castiel flushed, embarrassed, but Dean clicked his fingers hurriedly in front of his face. "Come on, then, no time like the present!" Looking obviously uncomfortable under everyone's gaze, Castiel slowly lifted the fork to his mouth and took a bite. The Doctor slowly raised his head to watch. Dean crossed his arms, impatient.

"Well?" He pressed. Castiel swallowed tentatively.

"Is this what humans call...sweet?" he asked, and Dean nodded excitedly. "I think I like it," he concluded.

 _"Yes!"_ Sam rolled his eyes as his brother punched the air triumphantly. "That's good, cause I would've disowned you otherwise," Dean grinned. Castiel seemed alarmed for a moment before he realised the joke and relaxed. The morning passed slowly and quietly after that, the sun warming the ground outside and clear bird-song piercing the misty air until there was movement in the bunker once again. Sam and Dean bustled around preparing to leave, while The Doctor remained in his corner, eyes glued to one of the many books piled around him.

"Werewolves, huh? I fought some werewolf monks with Queen Victoria once," he mused casually. Dean walked past, jacket half hanging off his shoulders. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again, a bemused look upon his face which made The Doctor chuckle. Dean shook his head and returned to his authoritative state, shrugging on his jacket and grabbing the car keys from the table.

"Be at the car in five, I wanna get going." The Doctor jumped up.

"I could take you guys, it would only take a second." Dean stared at him.

"Yeah, but imagine what any sane person would think when that hunk of wood showed up in their backyard." He shoved his hands deep into his coat. "Plus, I want to relive that experience as little as possible." He turned to leave the room, Cas scurrying after him. Sam followed, but not before whispering to The Doctor:

"He's got a thing about flying," Sam smiled empathetically.

"Shut it!" Dean called down the hallway.

****

The Impala's wheels crunched against gravel as Dean eased it up the driveway before killing the engine. Sam and Dean exited the front, while Castiel climbed awkwardly out of the back seat.

"You know, you could have just... ' _angeled'_ your way here, Cas." Dean said. Castiel nodded in agreement.

"I know. I like to...observe...as much human interaction as I can. That way, I can assimilate my behaviour to match it." Halfway through Castiel's sentence, it was clear that Dean had stopped listening, turning to stride up the pathway towards the house they had arrived at.

"Whatever, nerd." Castiel smiled slightly, as if taking the statement as a compliment rather than a jab at his character. The three of them reached the door, and Dean knocked. They stood in silence for a moment before the door opened just a crack. Through it, a girl's face appeared. A blue eye stared at them through waves of messy blonde hair.

"We don't want any," She said, smirking, and began to close the door.

"Cut the crap, Claire." Dean complained, stopping the door from closing with his foot. He used his strength to his advantage as he leant against the wood, sending Claire stumbling back slightly with a pout on her face. It changed to a mischievous grin, however, when Dean clapped her on the shoulder.

"Hi Dean, Sam." She nodded warmly at them both, before her face darkened at the sight of Castiel behind them. He lowered his head, as if in shame. "Castiel," Claire greeted him coldly.

"Hi, Claire." Castiel nodded meekly at the floor. Everyone looked a little uncomfortable for a moment in the tense-filled doorway. Dean coughed, eager to move on from the less-than-warm welcome his friend had received. "How've you been?" He asked. Claire shrugged.

"Same as always." She raised her hand to brush the hair out of her face, and Sam's eyes narrowed.

"What happened?" Claire's sleeve had ridden up to reveal three scratches on her wrist, the crimson red standing out against her fair skin. She quickly pulled her sleeve down, eyes cast to the floor.

"Nothing, just a werewolf who got a little handsy." She said dismissively, as though they were discussing weekend plans. Dean lowered his voice concernedly.

"What about Jodie? Does she know?" Claire rolled his eyes at him.

"No, _Mom._ And I'll thank you to stay out of my personal affairs." She teased, her voice airy. Dean looked at her, reprimanding, but was interrupted before he could grill her any longer.

"I don't know what?" all heads turned as a woman stood in the corridor, hands on her hips. Her short dark hair, eyes and stern expression all contributed towards a look of clear authority as she strode down the hallway towards them. Dean cleared his throat sheepishly, as though he were a child again, and being scolded by his mother.

"Uh, nothing... ma'am." He stumbled over his words clumsily. She stared for a moment, but it didn't take long for Jodie's face to soften before pulling Dean into a bone-crushing hug.

"Gee it's good to see you boys." She said fondly.

"Nice to see you too, Jodie." Dean wheezed over her shoulder. She released him, then did the same to Sam and Castiel.

"Well, come on in." She motioned behind her and began to retreat into the house. "And don't you get mud on the carpet!" She snapped back, causing the three boys to guiltily check the soles of their shoes before treading lightly into the warm and welcoming home of Jodie Mills. 


	12. Chapter 12

The boys' journey through the hallway to the rest of the house was abruptly disrupted by the all too familiar sound (to them, anyway) that could only signify The Doctor's reappearance. A breeze rushed through the hall, ruffling their hair.

"Oh, for crying out loud..." Dean sounded exasperated as he looked behind them at the door.

"Did someone leave the door open?" Jodie's voice called back.

Turning to Sam and Cas, he pointed a finger seriously at them. "Stall." He commanded before turning on his heel and marching back out of the house. Outside, Dean rolled his eyes at the Police Box that now sat at the corner of the street. Striding up to it, he waited until The Doctor had hardly taken one step out before grabbing him by the tie, causing him to yelp in surprise.

"Dean, what...?"

" _What are you doing??_ " Dean hissed. "Do you have any idea how indiscreet you are being? I don't know if its occurred to you, but you can't always just appear out of thin air with a nice coat and puppy-dog eyes, and expect people to be fine with that!" He finished in a hushed yell. The Doctor lowered his gaze, embarrassed.

"I'm sorry, I didn't think-"

"No, you didn't. You know what," Dean rubbed at the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Just follow me, and don't say anything weird. Got it?" The Doctor nodded sheepishly. "Good." Dean took a deep breath before turning towards the house again, with The Doctor scurrying at his heels. They followed the sound of soft conversation down the hallway to the living room, where Sam and Castiel sat opposite Claire, who had her legs draped over the arm of the lounge, staring intensely at her phone. Another girl, who looked to be a similar age to Claire with black hair and olive skin waved at them cheerily from the kitchen counter.

"Hey, Dean. You've got yourself another trench-coated friend, I see. How many of those can one guy get?"

"How's it going, Alex?" Dean ignored her jab at him.

"Another...huh?" Jodie stuck her head out of the kitchen. "Oh? Who's this?" She smiled warmly at The Doctor, who grinned shyly back. He responded before Dean could, pulling his hand out of his pocket and holding it out.

"Hi! I'm The Doc-argh!" Dean stepped on his foot. "Smith. John Smith. Nice to meet you," he said in a just-passable American accent. He pulled his hand back to run it through his hair, giving Dean a murderous look. Jodie stared for a moment before she reanimated.

"Well, you're a friend of Sam and Dean, you're in my good book." She gestured to the couch as she walked back to the kitchen. "Come sit, I've got pie in the oven." Dean sniffed the air eagerly as he and The Doctor took their seats.

"Keep it in your pants, Dean." Claire smirked, not looking up from her phone.

"Watch it." Dean growled menacingly, but his reaction seemed only to make her more satisfied.

"So, John." Jodie re-emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her jeans. It took a moment for The Doctor to react, as if he had for a second forgotten his own alias. "You in the business, too?"

"The...business?" He cocked his head to one side.

"Hunting." Jodie's eyes drilled into his, as if she was examining his brain. The Doctor shifted slightly next to Dean.

"Oh, no. I'm...uhh..." He faltered, and Dean jumped forward.

"He's a scientist. Real numbers guy." The Doctor looked down at his lap and twiddled his fingers. 

"Cool. What field?" Claire expressed her interest, face still half hidden behind her mobile phone.

"A...bit of everything, really." The Doctor mumbled vaguely. He was clearly more withdrawn now that he was thrust out of his comfort zone, normally being able to freely ramble out ideas and opinions. The Doctor thought absently if this is how he would be if he was human. Introverted, shy even, quietly observing the world as it moved around him.

"John helped us out when we were in a...tight spot yesterday." Dean was saying. The Doctor shook himself out of his thoughts, looking at Dean in surprise. Just last night he was angry, accusing him of being the cause of their problems. Today, there was a complete turnaround. Not that The Doctor was complaining, but Dean's swift change of heart caught him off guard. "We owe him a lot."

"I just did what I could to help," The Doctor lowered his head humbly. Jodie nodded warmly.

"We all do, darlin. That's why we stick together." Sam and Castiel, who had been silently listening, murmured in agreement. During this exchange, no one heard the soft pad of sock-clothed feet towards them.

"Sam? Dean?" All heads in the room turned to the voice. Yet another young girl stood tentatively at the foot of the stairs, with brown skin and hair that fell into her dark circled eyes.

"Patience, hey." Sam smiled, and Dean raised a hand in greeting. Patience smiled weakly back. She looked incredibly tired, raising a hand to rub at her eyes.

"Thanks for coming so quickly, I really appreciate it." Dean opened his mouth to assure her it was nothing, but Claire piped up from her corner of the couch, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"You told them to come around?"

"I knew it couldn't have been just a friendly catch-up." Jodie sighed. Patience looked upset, but squared her shoulders.

"Yes, It's really important."

"It's about your stupid dreams, isn't it?" Claire said rather nastily. "I told you to stop being so paranoid."

"They aren't stupid! You'll believe me when something terrible happens, but by then it will be too late. I am so sick of your scepticism!" Patience snapped before retreating swiftly back up the stairs. An awkward silence pervaded the room for a moment. Dean stood.

"I'm gonna go talk to her," he told the group, and crossed the room to the stairs as Jodie began to scold Claire, who had her arms crossed and her eyes turned up to the ceiling. Dean poked his head around the corner before slowly climbing the stairs, where Patience sat at the top. She hastily wiped her eyes as he approached.

"Excuse the outburst," she chuckled softly. "I haven't really slept in about three days." Dean's expression softened as he looked at her sympathetically. He lowered himself down beside her with a sigh, feeling his age now more than ever. They sat in silence for a moment. Dean looked sideways at Patience who kept her gaze unwaveringly in her lap.

"You're gonna have to give in and sleep soon, kiddo. Sammy didn't sleep once, and after a while, lemme tell you: it wasn't pretty." Dean finished in a whisper and was satisfied when he saw a small smile curl up the corners of Patience's lips. It vanished quickly however, and she looked up at Dean in earnest.

"Am I crazy?" Dean blinked.

"There's nothing wrong with crazy, you know. But since I know the context by which you mean crazy, I'm gonna say no." He shifted slightly before continuing. "There's something happening to you that you don't understand. Hell, even I couldn't tell you why this is happening to you. It just is. But I do know, from experience, that this can be a good thing too. Kind of like a superpower, something you can use for good. And you don't have to do any of it alone, you know that, right?" Patience nodded shakily. When she spoke again, her voice was very small, and Dean detected the emotion immediately. It was undoubtably fear.

"I've seen things, Dean. Terrible things. And..." Her voice shook. "And they're coming true. It's happening again." She finished her sentence ominously.

"What did you see?" Dean asked seriously. Patience took a deep breath.

"I saw...bodies. People with their flesh eaten clean off. They're telling people it's animal attacks...but you and I both know that's not true." Dean nodded, his face unreadable, but Patience wasn't finished. "And...and I saw Donna." Dean's head shot up so quickly he felt a stab of pain in his neck.

"Donna? Patience, she's okay, right?" He asked desperately.

"Yeah, she's okay as far as I know. I think she's on the case." Dean stood, holding out a hand to help Patience up.

"We're gonna figure this out, alright? But in the meantime, you really need to sleep. If anything happens, we'll come get you. Deal?" Patience nodded tiredly before slowly wrapping her arms around Dean in a hug.

"Thank you for believing me."

"No problem." Dean awkwardly hugged Patience back for a moment, feeling an intense wave of responsibility for the young girl, as he often still felt with Sam. They broke apart, Patience heading to her room and Dean turning on his heel to descend the stairs. He re-joined his other companions in the living room, where The Doctor was chatting animatedly with Jodie over a cup of tea. Sam and Castiel were talking in hushed voices next to each other on the couch. Their heads turned as Dean entered the room.

"She okay?" Sam asked concernedly. Dean lowered himself into a chair.

"Yeah. But we have a case. Patience described what she saw to me, and it seems an awful lot like vampires to me."

"Vampires?" The Doctor shuffled forward on his seat in excitement. "Like... _real_ vampires?" His face soured. "They don't sparkle, do they?"

"No." Dean sounded thoroughly unimpressed. "Anyway, seems like Donna's involved, too." Jodie looked worried.

"Must be recent, she would have called. I'll try and get in touch." Jodie stood and began to leave the room, pulling her phone out of her back pocket. The Doctor, Sam and Dean fell into silence, occasionally sharing looks of concern and trepidation. The moment didn't last very long, however. A shrill scream pierced the air, making them all start.

"Patience," Dean murmured before jumping to his feet and rushing for the stairs, beginning to leap up them two at a time. He reached the door at the end of the hall and wrenched it open without a second thought. Patience sat on the bed, knees drawn to her chest and trembling from head to toe. Dean reached her first, the others peering in anxiously from the doorway.

"Dean," Patience whimpered, her breath coming in shaky short bursts. Dean knelt down and placed his hands on her shoulders.

"What is it? What did you see?" Patience shook her head, screwing her eyes shut. "Come on, you need to tell me." Dean pressed gently.

"T-there's been another one...another victim." Her voice tremored. "A-and..." She stopped short, hugging her knees closer to her body. Dean was growing more and more anxious as the silence grew.

"Patience, and _what_? Please." He said, giving her a little shake.

"I-I saw... _him."_ Dean's heart dropped. _No no no, please._ He looked at Patience in horror.

"Who?" His voice sounded strangely disconnected to his body. Patience locked eyes with Dean, her eyes wide with terror.

"Lucifer." 


	13. Chapter 13

"We have to go. Right now." Dean's calm and collected tone of voice hid his internal fear as he strode around the house, pacing anxiously with The Doctor and Castiel watching and Sam following his movements close behind him.

"Dean, talk to me, please. What has gotten into you?" Sam continued to press Dean for answers but was getting no response.

"I need some air." Was all Dean could breathe out before walking briskly out of the room, the sound of the front door opening and shutting behind him. Sam hardly paused for one second, telling his companions to wait inside as he scurried out the door. Dean stood in the driveway, leaning forward on the front of the Impala. Sam felt a surge of anger as he looked at his older brother, tired of fighting against his stubbornness.

"So that's it? You're just going to run away?" Sam said to Dean's back, who hunched his shoulders before turning to face him.

"What else do you want me to do, Sam?" He asked angrily, his hands balled into fists. Sam looked at Dean earnestly before replying.

"Stay, and figure this out." This did nothing to calm Dean's frustration, who walked up to him and shoved a hand roughly into his shoulder, making him stumble back slightly despite his size. Sam looked at his brother, stung.

"How can you continue to be so calm about this?! After what _he_ did to you? After what he did to both of us?" Dean raised both of his hands to run through his hair. And with that, Sam began to understand. His demeanour softened.

"Dean, we hunt monsters. This is our life. The stuff we hunt beat us down all the time, but we haven't let that stop us before. We've got to keep fighting." He urged. Dean looked down, unsure. 

"This is different. Lucifer _possessed_ you. You've been to hell, trapped in the cage, and I thought I would never get you back. He tortured me until I would do it to someone else. You're my responsibility Sam, I'm not just gonna let you run straight into this."

"I'm not a child, Dean. You don't have to look after me. We need to do this, together. Not just you doing things to protect me. And if something goes down, we'll deal with it." Dean stared, but said nothing. "C'mon, man." He gestured to the house behind him. "There are people in there who need you. _I_ need you." Dean stepped closer to his brother, his eyes pleading, almost tearful.

"And what about what _I_ need, Sam?" He poked a finger to the middle of his chest. "I've always gotta be the tough one, the one who'd storm into danger, guns blazing, no matter what. That's who people think I am. And sometimes that's true. But right now, that's a lie." His voice shook audibly as he cast his eyes to the floor in what felt like shame. "I'm scared, Sam. And maybe, just for a while, I need to not feel scared. For you, or for anyone else who's safety is on _me._ " Dean finished, now looking anywhere but Sam's face. He hated that puppy-dog look that he sometimes had on the very occasional times where he shared his feelings. He prepared for more arguments, but they never came.

"Us." Dean forced himself to look at Sam. His face was unreadable.

"What?"

"All the stuff you said? It's on the both of us. You don't need to carry that alone. We're family, and you know I would do anything for you. I am your younger brother, but you have to stop treating me like I can't do this with you." Sam said earnestly. Dean shut his eyes and took a breath, feeling the edge of his fear ease away.

"Sorry, Sammy. I'm being selfish." Sam placed a firm hand on his shoulder.

"Nothing to be sorry for. So, we good?" Dean nodded shakily.

"Yeah, we're good." Sam nodded, satisfied. As they turned back to the house together, a familiar cheery voice called out to them from the front porch.

"For what it's worth," The Doctor said, leaning against the door, legs crossed over one another lazily. "I've dealt with some...uh...let's say _crazy_ stuff. And granted, though I barely have any idea what's going on, this sounds pretty bad on the scale of bad things. And so, I offer my expertise in whatever way I can." The Doctor monologued, bowing dramatically with a flourish of his hands. Dean stared at him.

"You were eavesdropping?" The Doctor placed a hand over his heart (well, one of them anyway) in fake offence.

"Of course not! You call it eavesdropping, I like to think of it more as...um...okay yeah, I was eavesdropping." He grinned cheekily before dashing back inside. Dean shook his head, more amused than annoyed.

"Weird dude..." He mumbled, making Sam chuckle softly as they followed The Doctor back inside.

- _Hibbing, Minnesota_ -

"And you lot stay in these? Like, _regularly_?" The Doctor wrinkled his nose at the dusty, off-green upholstery in the room. After arriving in Minnesota, they had asked for the cheapest motel nearest the police station. The dull lighting did nothing to brighten the cream coloured walls, and the faint smell of mothballs wafted from the flaky wooden closet standing opposite the beds. "It stinks." The Doctor sniffed. Dean put his bags down, unphased.

"Only when we're out working a case," He said, flopping onto one of the beds, causing the dust that could be seen in the light of the sun fly every which way around the room.

"Which is pretty much always." Finished Castiel with a small smirk, earning him an attempted slap on the leg from Dean which he dodged with surprising precision.

"So, what now?" The Doctor stepped over Dean's dangling legs to seat himself at the small round table by the window.

"Well, normally we'd go check out the scene of the crime, but I got word on the way here that the victim has already been moved to the morgue." Sam explained, taking the chair opposite The Doctor and taking out his laptop. "I'd say that's the best place to start." The rest of the company waited in silence for a while, broken only by Sam's swift fingers tapping on the keyboard. Heaving a sigh, he turned the laptop around to face them. News articles peppered the screen. The biggest one read ' _SAVAGE ANIMAL ATTACKS SHOCK LOCAL BACKPACKERS_ '. The Doctor's eyebrows furrowed.

"I'm not an expert, but I'm guessing they weren't animal attacks." Sam nodded.

"So, the first thing that struck me when Patience described what she saw of the victims was that we've seen this before." He said, looking expectantly at his brother. Dean thought for a moment.

"Yeah. Yeah, that sheriff's convention a while back. Were we met up with Jodie and Donna?" Sam clicked his fingers.

"Exactly. Maybe that's why Donna might be involved this time. Maybe she recognised the pattern." Dean reached into the duffle bag beside him and pulled out a tattered brown notebook. It looked like it had definitely seen better days. Small pieces of paper stuck out in every which way, serving as page markers, and the paper crinkled fragilely as each page was turned. The Doctor leaned over, peering interestedly at its contents.

"The only thing is, the last time this happened, we shut down the nest of vampires that were doing this. Why's the killing started again? It doesn't add up." Dean wondered aloud, his eyes darting back and forth as he read through a section of the notebook.

"Is it at all possible that you missed some of them? Or that there were more than you originally thought?" Castiel asked timidly, fingers fiddling with his tie.

"Sure its possible, I just don't like the idea of being wrong." Dean mumbled grumpily, hastily shoving the notebook back into his bag. The Doctor chucked softly.

"Well, there's only one way to find out now, isn't there?" He jumped to his feet, straightening his trench coat around him. Dean rolled his eyes.

"You need to stop being so excited about everything." He whined, but this only earned him another cheery grin that made him let out a frustrated groan. Sam stepped forward.

"Hang on – Doctor, we're going to be going into a classified area. You're gonna need I.D." Somehow, this made The Doctor smile even wider, as he fumbled in his large pockets.

"That won't be a problem at all!" He exclaimed happily, pulling out a small card in a leather case. He flipped it open, holding it out in front of him. Dean squinted confusedly.

"The...King of England?"

"Psychic paper. Shows people whatever I want them to see." He announced proudly, turning it to face the others. Castiel looked confused rather than surprised.

"I just see a bunch of wavy lines." He said. The Doctor blinked, turning it around.

"Do you really?" He asked, fascinated. "Must be because your brain's more advanced than these puny human ones," he winked, making Castiel smile shyly.

"Dude...you've gotta stop blowing my mind, it can't be good for my health. Let me try!" Dean lunged forward and grabbed the psychic paper off The Doctor. He looked at it for a moment before turning it around. "What does it say??"

"Certified monster hunter and...saviour of the universe." Sam read, giving his older brother an exasperated look.

"That is awesome..." Dean said breathlessly, a childlike grin spreading over his features. Sam cut in, pushing the paper back to The Doctor.

"As great as that is, you should probably just borrow one of our spare I.D.'s. Otherwise _someone,_ " he emphasised, looking straight at Dean. "could abuse that paper's powers and blow our cover."

"Buzzkill..." Dean huffed grumpily, though he knew they had wasted enough time. Grabbing the car keys off the table, he strode to the door, placing his hand on the knob. "Let's roll, then."


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Some mild gore/dead body shown towards the end of the chapter. Build up is pretty slow so if any of that upsets you you'll know when to skip ahead. Xxx

Castiel hated that clean, sterile smell that seemed as if it was a part of the air. He hated the washed-out, white-coloured paint that coated the walls and the shiny, almost tacky floor that clicked loudly when feet came in contact with it. He closed his eyes as he exhaled slowly. Places like this could only remind him of a place he was trying to forget. _That_ place. Heaven. Clean, white...perfect. Castiel sighed. _Supposedly..._ he thought. Conformity under a veil of freedom and peace. Obey, or become hated. Become hunted. Become...nothing. No better than a human in the angels' eyes. Nothing more than an irritation, a mound of ants that could be stomped on if need be. Castiel jumped violently as a hand clapped his shoulder, startling him out of his dark thoughts.

"Woah, you okay there, buddy? I didn't mean to scare you." Dean raised his hands apologetically.

"Yeah, sorry..." Cas mumbled, embarrassed. He was supposed to be the stoic one: calm, collected, emotionless. But as time moved on, he felt these strange, very human emotions more than ever. Joy, fear, love. It was both a blessing and a curse. Most days, he was proud to be able to feel this way. To feel flawed. Sometimes however, on days that felt darker than the largest black hole, he wished he was nothing more than a silent observer of the worlds' hardships. He shook himself again. There was no time for brooding like this. There was work to be done.

"So, we doing this then?" The Doctor said as he and Sam appeared beside Cas and Dean.

"Yeah. Just be confident and follow my lead." Dean ordered before leading the way down the hallway where a receptionist sat at a desk behind a clear window.

"Can I help you?" She asked, looking bored.

"We'd like to take a look at the body that was brought in last night. Animal attack?" Dean said authoritatively. The receptionist stared at him for a moment.

"Got I.D.?"

"Sure." Dean didn't miss a beat, flashing her a smile before reaching into his pocket and pulling out his card. Sam followed suit, nudging The Doctor who quickly did the same. Castiel was the last to hold up his I.D., first glancing at it swiftly to ensure he was holding it the right way up. The woman behind the counter sighed, irritated, her eyes narrowing.

"Why would _four_ people need to do an inspection? That's a little excessive don't you think?" The Doctor held his breath, but once again Dean didn't falter. He held up his hands in a lazy shrug.

"I don't ask questions, I just go where I'm told." The apparently more-difficult-than-normal receptionist looked unconvinced, and seemed as if she was about to ask more questions, but was cut off abruptly by a loud voice ringing clearly down the corridor.

"They're with me, Sandra, I can take it from here." Dean was the first to react.

"Donna!" Castiel felt The Doctor flinch slightly beside him as the rest of them turned to see a bright eyed, blonde haired woman wearing a police uniform and holding a take-away cup of coffee striding down the hall towards them, a wide smile glued to her face. Sandra gave her a sour look before closing the window.

"Hiya boys!" She exclaimed cheerily. "Gee, it's good to see you." Donna then wrapped her arms around each of them in a bear hug in turn, then stopped when she reached The Doctor. "Who's your friend?" The Doctor seemed to shake himself out of his head before holding out his hand.

"John Smith, er..." He debated for a moment, looking sideways at Dean, who nodded. "You know what, just call me The Doctor. I've been... _assisting_ Sam, Dean and Cas recently, so they said I could come along." He flashed his usual smile, if not a little more jerkily than normal. Donna's expression didn't falter in the slightest.

"Oh, yeah, I getcha." She winked and tapped the side of her nose. The Doctor relaxed considerably.

"So, shall we?" Sam stepped forward, clearly wanting to get a move on.

"Sure, it's this way." Donna took the lead, the group's shoes clicking on the linoleum floor. They followed her down the hall a while until she stopped before a door on the right.

"Prepare yourselves, it's pretty nasty in there. Forensics couldn't even identify the body." Dean waved his hand, impatient.

"Nothing we haven't seen before, let's get a move on." Donna nodded, placing her hand on the handle and opening the door. The group piled into the small room. The were alone, save for the black body-shaped bag lying on a metal table. Strange tools and implements were stacked up on the glassed-shelves. For someplace so meticulously clean, the room smelled of death. Dean strode confidently up to the body bag, Sam and The Doctor peering over his shoulder. Castiel remained by the door, watching and listening silently for any unknowing intruders. The slow unzipping sound was all that could be heard as Dean slowly pulled back the plastic to reveal the body. The group recoiled, like they had all been slapped in the face. What lay on the table no longer looked human, apart from the skeletal structure. Pink-white flesh covered the body, as if something had eaten all the way down to the bones. It almost resembled that of an animal carcass shown on a wildlife documentary, though the fact that it was human made it all the more deeply unnerving. Dean looked away, his face paling.

"Okay, I lied. Still not used to this." Sam stared, as if forcing himself to look. The Doctor too couldn't tear his gaze away from the body, his eyes watering from either the smell or shock, he couldn't tell. Dean kept his head turned, taking a deep breath before looking back at the grizzly scene. "Okay. So, what do we know?

"Victim was discovered at two thirty-eight this afternoon by a jogger in a wood not far from here. Although the body had been deceased for at least three hours before it was found." Donna reported, reading off a clipboard.

"Well, that checks out with Patience's dreams." Sam ran a hand through his hair, wanting to do anything but look at the ravaged carcass in front of them.

"But...Vampires don't...do this, do they? Don't they just...bite you and drink your blood?" The Doctor spoke up, his voice shaky and unsure. He was clearly way beyond his area of expertise.

"Not if they want to preserve their victims, meaning less casualties, meaning less questions from police," Sam said knowledgably. "A safer way to hunt in larger areas."

"A group of Vampires will also stick to certain feeding patterns," Dean added. "But the nest that was doing this...we ganked 'em all. Right?" he turned to Sam, who sighed heavily.

"I dunno. I mean, I thought so, but there's always a possibility some escaped." The Doctor's head whipped up.

"You mean you just murdered them all?" He asked. Dean stared at him.

"These things _kill_ innocent people, Doctor. Its in their nature." The Doctor nodded slowly, but looked troubled. Anybody who knew him well enough knew that he despised violence. Whenever, wherever possible he made it a point to never incite conflict. He'd seen too much of in his nine hundred years. Suddenly, The Doctor found himself feeling very old. Feeling the weight of all his mistakes, all the death and destruction that happened around him, it was so heavy. _Been alone too long,_ said a voice in his ear. Lately he had been finding it increasingly harder to make rational decisions, his judgement clouded by a coldness that had begun to consume him. He had thought he was powerful, untouchable, even all-knowing. All these years, all these lives, they had begun to turn him into the very thing he hated most.

The Timelord victorious. 


	15. Chapter 15

The soft hum of the Impala served as white noise as the company of four rode through the night. The shadowy trees lining the road blurred around them, and the two headlights pierced the blackness.

"For such a primitive mode of transportation, there is certainly something appealing about it." The Doctor sighed contentedly as he looked out the window. It had taken some forceful coaxing on Sam and Dean's part to get The Doctor to willingly travel with them. It would be 'humbling', they had said. It was sort of true, he thought, leaning up against the window. Travelling like the humans he spent so much time around felt...nice. Almost like he was one of them; he could leave the 'loner', the 'outcast' side of him behind, if only for a little while. It was freeing, even though he was stuck in a car with three other people.

Castiel smiled slightly to himself from the back seat next to The Doctor, the darkness covering it up. So rarely was he able to relate to someone, it felt strange when he did. Strange, but good. Even though he had the ability to literally teleport to most locations, he often chose to ride with Sam and Dean. Not only did he enjoy the company, he loved the calming effect driving had on him, especially at night. The soft rumble of the engine, the vibration of the seats, sound of the tires on the wet road. It definitely had its charms as opposed to appearing in a new place by no more than wishing it so.

"Told you," Dean said teasingly from the wheel. He would occasionally engage in conversation, though he kept his eyes steadily on the long, straight road ahead. Sam sat next to him in the passenger's seat, poring through their leather-bound notebook, the sound of turning pages adding to the soothing mix of sounds. Despite the comfortable silence between them however, there was still a small bit of anxiety gnawing away at The Doctor's insides. He leaned forward in his seat.

"So, what is it we're doing exactly?" Sam cleared his throat.

"Well, since we've already seen what these particular vampires are doing to their victims, our next best bet is to go check out the nest. We've been there before, so at least we don't have to find the place." He said, eyes still on his book. The Doctor paused, not feeling reassured.

"And that's...dangerous, I'm assuming."

"Could be, yeah. We stick together and stay on guard, got it?" Dean spoke up authoritatively. The Doctor nodded, falling back into his seat with a sigh. He had faced dangers before, and was certainly no stranger to violence, even death. So why did he feel so uneasy? This pit in his stomach was unfamiliar to him. Maybe it was the fact that this time, he wasn't the confident leader he was used to playing. He was used to taking his fear and turning it into action. Maybe taking the back seat with this one (literally) wasn't giving him his normal outlet he needed to distract himself from how dangerous the danger really was. Maybe it was just a bad feeling, he reasoned with himself. _Or maybe it's something worse,_ the other voice retorted ominously. The Doctor rubbed his face frustratedly. He felt Castiel breathe deeply beside him, as if he could sense his distress. The Doctor's bad mood lessened slightly. He returned to watching the world pass by his window, silently thankful for the company he had in that moment.

The rest of the drive went by in silence. The smooth road gave way to course gravel, then dirt as they turned down a clearly neglected driveway. The Impala shuddered slightly before coming to a stop before a clearing nestled behind a wall of trees. Along the path a little, the dark shadow of a building could just be seen with the naked eye, outlined against the ghostly wood.

"All the no-no signs for a perfect horror movie! My favourite." The Doctor exclaimed sarcastically as the four of them got out of the car. Dean rolled his eyes.

"Can you _try_ and be a little less like me? It's unnerving. I'm supposed to be the cool witty one." He said, walking around to the trunk.

"That could be debatable." Castiel rebutted cheekily, hands in his pockets. Dean groaned.

"Aw, come on, not you too!" Sam watched their antics, smiling. It was nice to see his brother this way. With their job, they were hard pressed to find moments like these. Where it didn't feel like it was just them against all the evil in the world. Dean popped open the trunk, and the moment ended. Inside, it was an unorganised mess of different knives, guns, and an array of tattered books. Sitting in the corner was an unusually large box of table salt. The Doctor peered over Dean's shoulder in curiosity.

"What's that?" He asked, pointing to a large symbol painted on the underside of the trunk. It looked similar to a pentagram, however five other strange symbols unknown to him were placed between each point.

"Devil's trap," Dean replied as if it were perfectly normal to have a pentagram drawn on the inside of one's car. "We had to transport a demon once, and like hell I was gonna let him sit in _my_ car. It turned out to be pretty useful so we kept it there. Here," he turned to face The Doctor, holding out a long, sharp, nasty-looking blade. The Doctor visibly recoiled, as if it were him about to be attacked.

"No. No way." His tone was almost pleading, his hands held out in front of him. Dean looked apologetic.

"Fine. We'll compromise." He grabbed a small handgun from the trunk. The Doctor laughed nervously.

"Is that supposed to make me feel better!?"

"The bullets are coated in dead man's blood. It won't kill 'em, just slow them down. Then you can leave the rest to us." The Doctor glared at Dean, his eyes flitting from him to the gun in his outstretched hand. Dean waited patiently. After what felt like a full minute, The Doctor slowly reached out his hand. He took the gun gingerly, as if it was about to bite him, then stowed it inside his coat. He looked seriously at Dean.

"I am _not_ using this." He said defiantly. Dean opened his mouth as if to protest, then thought better of it. Right now, The Doctor was not to be reasoned with, and Dean feared that his stubbornness towards weapons would eventually be his downfall.

"Sam." Dean caught his brothers' attention before throwing a machete his way. Sam reached out and caught it skilfully with one hand. He looked around at the small group.

"Ready?" The Doctor squared his shoulders and nodded. He could do this. They began walking into the darkness toward the looming barn in formation: Sam and Dean leading out front, The Doctor scurrying close behind, with Castiel bringing up the rear. They walked in silence, watching the derelict building draw closer with each step. Jagged glass circled the window frames like broken teeth, rotten red-painted wood peeling down the walls. Their pace slowed as they approached the double doors. A heavy padlock hung from the handles. Without much more than a second thought, Dean raised his foot as if to kick the door in.

"Dean! What're you doing?" Sam hissed in a low whisper. "If there's anyone in there you'll bring them all down on us, you idiot!" Dean lowered his foot sheepishly.

"Uh, sorry." The Doctor reached into his pocket and pulled out his sonic, stretching out his arm between them to use it on the lock.

"Can...uh, can I use it again?" Dean asked tentatively. The Doctor handed it to him and smirked as he watched Dean's eyes light up like a kid on Christmas morning. The lock made a metallic _clink_ , the chains snaking off the handles and onto the dusty floor.

"Dean." Hardly a step inside, they turned back to see Castiel standing rooted to the spot, looking pained.

"Cas? What's up?" Dean sounded worried.

"Warding," Castiel replied, screwing his face up as if he were concentrating extremely hard. "I can't go inside." Sam and Dean looked at each other.

"What kind of Vampire wards against angels?" Sam questioned aloud. Dean shrugged.

"Don't let me stop you," Castiel said earnestly. "You guys go on, I'll keep a lookout out here."

"You're sure?" Dean's eyebrows furrowed in uncertainty.

"Yeah, I'll be fine. Just keep the door unlocked." Sam nodded to show he understood. A few encouraging words and shoulder-pats later, Dean was advancing into the darkness beyond the door, followed by Sam and The Doctor. Now left in silence with his back to the wall, Castiel turned to face the moonlit forest behind them, keeping a watchful, protective eye over his surroundings lying still and calm in the eerie night. 


	16. Chapter 16

Inside, if it were possible, looked even more woebegone and dishevelled than the outside. The rotten wooden floorboards beneath their feet threatened to crumple under even soft and careful steps. Trickles of water from the recent downpour ran down the walls, only further eroding the structure of the barn. Three flashlights clicked on as Sam, Dean and The Doctor ventured further inside. The atmosphere was tense and heavy, almost tangible. Dark, shadowy doorways became visible, their gaping mouths swallowing the light whole. Sam shuffled over to his older brother.

"I can't shake the feeling that there is something way bigger going on here." He breathed softly. Dean turned, a troubled expression upon his face.

"Me too," he answered. "Something's not right about all this. It's not often we have a case turn up twice. Must mean we're good at our job." Dean couldn't resist adding in a quip to the end of his speculations, making Sam huff slightly in annoyance. Before either could take another step, a sharp inhalation and the sound of breaking glass made them both jump and whip round.

"Sorry..." The Doctor stood looking shaken with his back to the wall, facing a tall shelf in an open room off to the side of the main one. A large glass jar lay smashed at his feet, splattering the floor with a thick substance, dark red in colour. Sam passed his flashlight across the room to stop on the shelf, which was filled with jars of the same kind.

"Blood." Dean crouched down to get a closer look.

"Yeah, I think I got that bit." The Doctor let out a nervous chuckle, looking squeamish. Dean finished his surveillance of the area and turned to face his companions.

"Vampires back in business, then?" Sam scratched his head thoughtfully.

"You think maybe a branch of the original nest came back to rebuild?"

"Maybe..." Dean trailed off, rubbing his chin. Once again, a noise pulled them out of their deliberations. Only this time, it was the soft familiar whirring of the sonic screwdriver. They turned to see The Doctor pointing his trusty device towards the mess on the floor, leaning forward though trying to keep as far away as possible.

"I think this might change things..." he murmured, perking up slightly as he looked at his findings.

"What is it?" Sam and Dean said in unison.

"The blood isn't human." The Doctor's conclusion made the brothers blink in surprise. "It's deer blood." Sam and Dean exchanged glances.

"Vamps had a lifestyle re-evaluation, huh?" Sam wondered aloud.

"You think they had a change of heart after we iced their pals?" Dean offered.

"Hang on-" The Doctor stepped forward, clearly wanting more of an explanation. "That's a thing? Vegetarian vampires?"

"Not common, but yeah, it's a thing." Sam confirmed. "They can feed on animal and human blood, thought the latter is much more enticing." The Doctor nodded, looking rather pale.

"Let's...uh, push on, shall we? I think it's safe to say that we found the kitchen." The Doctor suggested, seeming very eager to leave.

****

The thick layer of trees surrounding the clearing did little to stop the chill that had begun to cut through the air. Castiel shrugged his coat closer around him, not because he felt the cold, but to attempt to settle the prickling of the hairs on the back of his neck, and the gnawing pit in his stomach. He sighed. Why was he feeling like this? He was used to keeping watch while Sam and Dean did the hard-yards, he had no problem with simply offering his support and expertise when they needed him. As time went by, he felt more and more like that was his true purpose, and he was content with it. Yet here he stood, feeling strange emotions in the dark. Before he could sink any deeper into his thoughts, a distant twig snapping caused Castiel to raise his head swiftly, like a dog that had caught a scent. _It's probably nothing,_ he thought, yet every other part of him was on edge, as though his very nerves were standing on-end. Almost as if on their own, his feet took a step forward against his better judgement. He needed to stay here and keep watch over the building, but his legs dragged on, the need to investigate growing with every step. Castiel walked, following where he thought he had heard the noise coming from until he reached the edge of the clearing, looking up at the first row of trees blocking this place off from the road. Something rustled through he bushes, Castiel cocking his head quickly toward the source of the disturbance.

"Hello...?" His voice sounded louder than he expected, almost startling himself. As he pushed through the undergrowth, he was also surprised to feel his heart pounding in his ears. Before he could take another step, the silence was shattered violently as something large burst from the thick spread of leaves. Castiel let out a yelp and raised his arms to his face. He opened his eyes just in time to see a deer cantering away, weaving skilfully between the trees. He let out a half-sigh, half-nervous chuckle, his breath misting in front of him. _Why was it so cold?_ This wouldn't have been a problem, until Castiel noticed a thin layer of ice begin to creep its way across the ground, crystalizing in jagged patterns as it went. The wind worsened considerably, his coat flapping at his legs. Something was very wrong. Instinctively, Castiel began to run back the way he had come, stumbling over his feet in his haste to return to his companions he had left too quickly. Stupid, stupid, _stupid._ He scolded himself as he ran, the barn looming ever closer. He quickly approached the door with the intention of warning the others, but was forced to skid to a halt as it closed with a soft thud and a rattle of chains.

"No," Castiel whispered urgently to himself as he tried in vain to force the door. It wouldn't budge. He closed his eyes, focusing with all his might in a desperate attempt to contact his friends.

 _"Sam, Dean, please-"_ Before he could think another word, his head was filled with a high-pitched whine, so loud it made him clutch at his head in pain. Castiel dropped to his knees, trying to cry out but not being able to hear his own voice. Just when he thought his head might explode, the noise and the pain subsided, giving him time to gasp in relief. It was short lived, however, as a voice called out that was not Sam, Dean or The Doctor. It was one that even hearing was enough to cause his mostly unfeeling heart to skip a beat. It was calm, lilting, almost teasing, accompanied by a second pair of feet crunching into the gravel.

"Simple hunting knowledge, Castiel, you've gone soft." The voice sneered. "Surely you should be aware that predators guide the weaker prey away from their herd, making them surprisingly easier to kill." Castiel raised his head to see a blonde-haired man wearing a leather jacket standing lazily over him. He would have almost passed for a human, apart from the fact that his eyes were blood-red.

" _You."_ Castiel growled, getting painfully to his feet. The man chuckled.

"You humble me, Castiel. A little common courtesy would go a long way, though, don't you think?" He smirked, and Castiel found the name pulling itself out of his mouth against his will.

"Lucifer."

"That's better. Not so hard, now was it?" Lucifer smiled nastily as he began to close the gap between them. "Now. You and I are going to have a nice, civil little chat." 


	17. Chapter 17

Castiel's shaking fingers fumbled inside his inner coat pocket as Lucifer grew closer still, smiling calmly. His hand closed around the handle of his angel blade, and in one swift and fluid motion he extracted and hurled it without hesitation. It hurtled end over end, catching the glow of the moonlight as it went. Any other adversary would be downed within a moment, but Lucifer was certainly not. Castiel watched in horror as the sleek silver blade stopped in its tracks just inches from Lucifer's face, some unnatural force holding it in place. This didn't seem to surprise him, if anything he looked mildly amused as he reached up a hand, plucking the blade out of the air and crushing it to dust in his fist. He tutted at Castiel as he let the dust fall through his parted fingers.

"That really wasn't very smart, was it?" He scolded, shaking his head in fake disappointment. Lucifer lazily raised a hand. With a click of his fingers, Castiel was thrown backwards off his feet by nothing at all. He felt all the air fly out of him as his back hit the wall of the barn painfully before sliding down it, landing with a soft thud on the ground. Lucifer took this opportunity to approach further as Castiel groaned, struggling to his feet.

"What..." Castiel paused, taking a few shaky breaths in order to compose himself, leaning against the barn door for support. "What do you want? Why are you here?" Lucifer pouted, sticking out his bottom lip.

"You're not happy to see me? After _all_ we've been through?" He delivered the line dramatically, stretching out an arm to place a hand on Castiel's shoulder, who shied away from his touch. When it became clear that Castiel was not going to play up to his standards, he let out a frustrated sigh, toeing the gravel with his shoes. "Alright. Believe it or not, I'm not even here for you. Although it is an added bonus," he smirked, almost talking to himself rather than Castiel, who's eyes followed his every move. "Here I am, doing some research on a certain individual, and who do I find buddying up with him? The brothers Winchester and their incessantly protective lap-dog." Lucifer spat out the last few words with distaste. Castiel didn't react to the insult however, as questions were already beginning to swirl around his brain. This 'individual' Lucifer mentioned had to be The Doctor. But why? What did he want with him? They had no past history with each other. Castiel was surprised to feel a sudden rush of emotion rise up within him. The Doctor had saved their lives, without even so much as a second thought. It was thanks to him that he was still here, with Sam and Dean, the two humans he would be lost without. Castiel was not about to give The Doctor up willingly to a pure force of evil. He wouldn't do that to anyone, but The Doctor was their friend. The Doctor was _his_ friend.

"What do you want with him?" Castiel's voice grew a little louder from his burst of confidence. Lucifer ceased his pacing and turned his head sideways to face him.

"Nose out, Castiel, I'd say that's between me and him." He held up a finger as if scolding a disobedient puppy. Castiel stood up straighter, never breaking eye contact as another emotion flooded through him: rage.

"You're not going to get what you want," he spoke slowly, trying to keep the tremble in his voice under control. He balled his hands into fists as he stepped forward slightly. "Because we're here to stop you. And we always will be." Castiel stared defiantly at Lucifer, who seemed unperturbed; his lips twitching upward in a slight smirk, eyebrows raised as he silently surveyed him. "We'll always keep fighting. And we won't stop until you're back to rot in that cage where you belong." Castiel finished, spitting out the final words with an uncharacteristic venom. He waited for Lucifer's response with baited breath, watching his adversary's lazy stance.

What happened next happened very fast. Lucifer moved at an unnatural speed, too quick for Castiel to react even if he tried. His hand outstretched in a flash, his dark eyes flashing crimson as he did so. Castiel felt the air rush out of him as he was again pushed roughly into the wall behind him; except this time, he couldn't move. The unknown force had returned, holding him in place by his coat collar. He struggled, but to no avail. There was no choice now but to watch with fearful eyes as Lucifer approached, pure anger coursing like fire through his eyes.

"You think...I have to go through the likes of _you_ to get what I want?" He hissed, pointing a trembling finger in Castiel's face, who tilted his head slightly to try and put as much distance between them as possible. "You have the _nerve_ to stand between me?" Lucifer accented his words by closing his fist and swinging it at full force. His knuckles connected with a vulnerable Castiel's cheekbone, who yelped and recoiled in pain. He lifted a hand to feel the wetness on his cheek, and looked almost in confusion at the red blood that came away on his fingers. In that moment, he felt more human than ever. There wasn't a lot of time to dwell on this, however, as another fist came flying into his stomach. Castiel groaned, doubling over from the blow. Still being held in place, he took shaky, shallow breaths as Lucifer backed off and began pacing. Castiel's eyes followed his movements warily, watching as he almost seemed to be talking to no-one but himself.

"Everything I have, my whole existence is based upon one simple thing. I see something I want, I _take_ it. No exceptions. Perhaps that's what cause my dear old dad to resent me so much. He saw my ambition, my power, and it scared him. I could-" He took a deep breath, as if he had upset himself with his own statement. "I _can_ do so much more that he can." He corrected himself, pressing his fingers to his temples in frustration. "And he knows it. So he punished me. Sentenced me for eternity in that blasted cage." Lucifer ceased his erratic movements, ecstasy spreading across his features. "But all that is behind me now. I can show him – _make him_ see. That I am the only one with the power to rule over these stupid, fragile monkeys." He spat out the words irritably, turning his back on his prey. "And soon, Castiel, even the universe, as far as reality stretches, will bow to me." He finished ominously, spreading his arms wide as if talking to a large crowd, but was met only with the soft howl of the wind in the night.

"No." The word fell out of Castiel's mouth almost by accident, surprising him with its strength. Lucifer turned his head slowly, as if he hadn't been expecting him to answer.

"No?" He queried softly, his tone dangerously calm. There was a moment of silence, as Lucifer almost seemed to ponder his next move. It didn't last, though. Castiel gasped as pain spread through his body. Lucifer stood over him, one hand clenched as though he aimed to squeeze the very life out of him. As he stepped closer once again. "You don't get to tell me 'no.'" He said, twisting his closed hand. Castiel dropped to his hands and knees, feeling as though his insides were being torn apart. The colour red exploded through his brain, forming into two horrific unhuman eyes boring into his very being. The only emotion he could find was fear. Pure, undiluted fear. He tried to be strong, to do something, anything; but as the pain grew unbearable even for him, he found himself screwing his eyes shut and screaming for the one thought he had left in his mind.

"DEAN!"

A group of birds fled from a nearby tree, startled by the noise. Then, silence. The pain ceased as quickly as it had come. Castiel raised his head, breathing harshly. He was alone. There was no sign that Lucifer had ever been there in front of him. The wind swirled through the surrounding trees, the metal door chain clinking softly against itself. Castiel let his head fall softly to the ground, grabbing fists of gravel in an attempt to ground himself. As he lay still, he felt a new emotion settle itself in the pit of his stomach. It felt like a weight, making his limbs feel too heavy to lift, his breath an effort to take in. Castiel let a whimper escape from his mouth, not even surprised anymore to feel the hot wet tears beginning to roll down his face. He clamped a hand over his mouth in an attempt to halt the unnatural action. He wondered if this was what hopelessness felt like.

What was wrong with him?


	18. Chapter 18

Half-rotted floorboards creaked in protest under the weight of even the deliberately soft footfalls of the small group, advancing further into the dark maw of the abandoned barn. Dean took the lead, flashlight in hand, its beam piercing the darkness. Sam followed, with The Doctor trailing anxiously behind. Every now and then they would hear the howling of the wind, battering softly against the fragile window panes as it picked up speed. Dean proceeded slowly but with purpose, one hand placed firmly on the gun at his hip. He panned across the room with his flashlight methodically, the knowledge that he had done this more times than he could count staving off his nerves. Sam took care to place his feet almost exactly where Dean did before him, in order to keep the noise level to a minimum. He watched his brother's back diligently, but not without a great many questions swimming around in his brain. This occurred often enough, now even more so that The Doctor had come on board, but something about this whole thing just didn't feel...right. Granted, their very job description was to deal with the unnatural, but this was different. Very rarely did they return to a case that had been solved, the problem either eradicated or at least put on the back-burner. So being back here, after he was almost certain they had rid the place of vampires, felt undoubtedly wrong. However, Sam did not feel it appropriate to voice his concerns aloud to the group in the tension and the dark, so he kept them to himself for the time being. The Doctor was skittish, the slightest creak or moan of the place causing him to startle in fear. _Pull yourself together,_ he scolded himself. Then again, he argued in his defence, this is what he could definitely call being 'out of his comfort zone'. He liked the feeling of being in control of a situation, of knowing what he was doing; maybe so much so that he was suffering withdrawals in desperation to have that confidence returned to him. For now, though, all that could be done was to follow instructions: for once he was not the one ordering people around, and he didn't like it at all. Dean's footsteps suddenly stopped, and with each of them caught up in their own world of thoughts, this caused Sam to walk straight into Dean, and The Doctor into Sam, causing everyone to stumble to a stop.

"Really, guys?" Dean hissed. A chorus of hushed 'sorry!'s rose up from the other two, but Dean only shushed them fiercely. "Listen." Sam looking over Dean's shoulder and The Doctor looking over Sam's, they only now noticed that they had come to a door at the foot of a staircase. One flight rose above them, stopping before the second-floor landing due to the rickety stairs having weakened to the point of collapse. The other set of stairs led down underneath them, leading to what looked like a basement. This wasn't the main object of their focus, however. As Dean quieted the others, a soft noise could be heard from behind the door they had crowded around. He placed an ear to the wood, listening intently. A low humming noise emanated from the other side. Sam leaned forward in order to hear better, and The Doctor hung back reluctantly.

"Is that door...buzzing?" He asked reluctantly. Dean's hand hovered tentatively over the doorknob.

"I guess there's only one way to find out," he reasoned, pulling out his gun with one hand and grasping the knob with the other. "Ready?" He turned to the others. Sam gave a short nod, steeling himself.

"No, but do it anyway." Came The Doctor's weak response. Without waiting for further pressing, Dean opened the door.

The first thing that became immediately apparent was the smell. It was the same smell that they had encountered in the morgue, but multiplied by ten, somehow alerting them to what was there even before the door had opened all the way.

"Oh God..." Dean recoiled, coughing. Bodies, and lots of them, looked as though they had been shoved carelessly into the small area. They seemed to have met the same fate as their John Doe in the morgue; that is, skinned from head to toe, their pink flesh illuminated by a flickering light hanging from the ceiling. A swarm of flies rose up from the corpses, their meal having been disturbed. Sam closed his eyes for a moment, as if to centre himself from the ghastly sight. The Doctor stared for a moment before he buckled, his legs giving out.

"Well, now we know what that sound was," he let out a shaky laugh, hollow and empty. Sam knelt down next to him, placing a steady hand on his shoulder.

"Just breathe. Don't look at it." The Doctor chuckled again, shaking slightly.

"Bit late for that."

"Sammy? You better come have a look at this." Dean, who seemed to have recovered the quickest, was now peering even closer over the mess in front of them. Sam obeyed, rising to his feet and giving The Doctor one more reassuring clap on the shoulder before hurrying to his brother's side.

"What is it?" Dean pointed to the carcasses, to one of the heads. Sam took a deep breath before looking closer. There was no identifying these either, and Sam noticed with disgust that even the hair and eyes of these people had been removed. The teeth remained as the only part left of the face, except...

"Fangs?" Sam sounded incredulous.

"I guess we know what happened to the rest of our pals," Dean said coolly. Even in a situation such as this, he could never resist a snarky one-liner, which Sam usually ignored.

"So, what, another bunch moved in here after out first visit, and then ended up like this?" Sam wondered aloud, talking more to himself than anyone else. "So, if they haven't been the ones doing this, who has?" He finished ominously. From the floor, The Doctor cocked his head to one side. He could've sworn he heard something just now, echoing up the stairs from the basement. The entrance stood barely visible if not for the crack of light shining through, the door only just ajar. He frowned. Wasn't that door closed before? He could've sworn it was. Then, there was that noise again. It almost sounded like a choked sob, like someone was crying but trying to keep it quiet. Was there someone down there? Someone that needed help?

"Uh... guys? Did you hear that?" He spoke up, unsure.

"Hear what?" Dean replied, barely paying attention as he and Sam continued their investigations. The Doctor got to his hands and knees, and then his feet, thinking. This was what he did. Help people. If he couldn't do this one thing to actually be of worth to the group, then maybe he was better off working alone. Taking one more glance at the turned backs of his companions, he reached the top of the stairs and walked softly down them. The light from the door was hardly enough to see by. He reached out his hands in the dark, walking blindly forward for a moment before his fingertips came in contact with wood. He pushed, the door swinging open surprisingly quietly given the age of the place. The Doctor walked slowly into the room, letting his eyes adjust to the dim lighting. It really did look like a basement out of a horror film, he thought. Nasty-looking saw blades and other tools hung from the walls, covered in dark brown rust. He was faced with shelves laden with old books, some of which looked positively ancient. On the top sat rows of jars with questionable liquids swimming around inside.

"Eugh..." The Doctor cringed audibly. At this, he became aware that he was not the only one in the room. A sharp inhale, then silence. "Hello?" he called out, softly, trying his luck. Nothing. "I'm coming around this corner, I'm not going to hurt you." He cautioned before slowly emerging from behind one of the bookshelves. Immediately, he registered the small pair of eyes regarding him from the other corner of the room. A small girl sat, her back to the wall, knees drawn up to her chest. She wore a white dress (which was not so white anymore), contrasting with her dark hair and skin. She was close enough for The Doctor to see the tears streaming from her hazel eyes.

"Don't come near me!" She said harshly before hiding her face, letting out another sob. The Doctor submitted straight away, crouching down to her level and raising his hands.

"Hello," he said in what he hoped was a friendly way. "It's all right, I'm here to help." The girl's eyes reappeared over her crossed arms, looking hopeful.

"Really?" She didn't sound convinced.

"Really." The Doctor replied earnestly. "I'm The Doctor. Hello!" He said again. He felt a bit of his normal-self creep out on its own accord, and he couldn't resist giving her a cheery wave. The girl's mouth twitched, the tiniest of smiles struggling to come forth. "What's your name?"

"N-Nina." She answered, relaxing ever so slightly.

"Hi, Nina." The Doctor realised dumbly that he had now said hello three times, but chose to ignore it. Behind him, the door he had come through began to swing backwards, then closed itself with a soft _click_. The Doctor continued, attempting to shuffle closer as Nina began to move her arms, revealing more and more of her face. "I have friends upstairs, they can help, too. Just come with me." He urged gently, reaching out a hand.

"Okay..." Nina sniffed, slowly raised a tiny hand, ready to accept The Doctor's invitation. "I trust you." But as his hand touched hers, expecting to grasp her hand in his, it fell forward, his hand swiping right through her, as if she were a ghost. The Doctor froze, the event not processing in his brain.

"What..." He watched in horror and confusion as the little girl he was just trying to save began to melt away into nothing, disappearing through his fingers. He hardly had time to register what had happened when he heard a shuffle behind him. He stood up and whipped round in lightning speed, and then stumbling backward as he wasn't expecting to be suddenly face-to-face with a man standing lazily before him.

"What's up, Doc?" He chuckled at his own reference, shoving his hands casually into his jacket pockets. The Doctor stared, one question among the many forced itself to the surface of his slowly working brain. 

"Who are you?" The man smiled maliciously, raising his head to meet The Doctor's gaze, his eyes flashing blood-red in the darkness.


	19. Chapter 19

_"DEAN!"_

The shout was loud enough to carry on the wind, making Sam and Dean jump and look up in alarm. Dean's heart sank, instantly recognising the cry for help.

"Cas," he whispered, and even in the dark Sam could see the urgency on his brother's features. Both of them wasted no time, whirling round and breaking into a run for the front door, where they had entered not too long ago. Dean reached it first pulling both the handles with all his might. They wouldn't budge. He let out a strangled cry of frustration, pounding on the wood with a closed fist. In their haste, neither of them realised The Doctor's absence, even in the presence of a locked door. There had to be another way out. Dean spotted a window to his left. It was strangely intact, given the rest of the building's condition, but the glass would be thin and easily breakable. _Breakable_ was the only word that flashed through Dean's head, and in four large strides he had reached it. He raised an elbow.

"Dean, wait-" The glass gave way on impact, instantly shattering in one blow.

"Come on." Dean clambered through the window without hesitation, hardly feeling the flash of pain that ran through his hand.

Castiel raised his head as the tinkle of breaking glass reached his ears. A moment later, his heart soared as Dean rounded the corner.

"Cas, you okay?" He asked urgently, kneeling down to look him in the eye. Sam appeared around the corner, worry shadowing his features. Castiel grabbed Dean's arm in response, having hardly enough time between encounters to catch his breath.

"I'm fine. Lucifer... he's here. This place, the whole case... I think it was all a trap. He wanted me out of the picture. He got inside my head, he..." Castiel tapered off shakily, blinking furiously in an attempt to ward off tears that were threatening to fall again. Dean tried to ignore the pit of anxiety in his stomach that had formed in mention of the name.

"Shh... it's okay now. Keep it together," he whispered, pulling Castiel gently to his feet and brushing the dirt off his coat affectionately.

"Dean... your hand..."

"Huh?" Dean looked down in bewilderment at his left hand, which, now that he focused on it, was beginning to smart rather painfully. A deep red gash ran diagonally across his palm, blood beginning to trail down his fingers. "I guess I was too preoccupied in saving your ass," He chuckled awkwardly. When this did nothing to ease the angel's obvious concerns, Dean absent-mindedly pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and tied it around the wound, pulling the knot tight with his teeth. "I'm fine, we've got bigger problems right now." He insisted earnestly. "So, you're saying this whole thing... The victim we saw, this place... it was all a set-up?"

"That would explain the vampire massacre." Sam spoke up thoughtfully, beginning to pace slowly in a tight circle. "He created his own case, knowing we'd follow it. The dreams Patience had? It was all to lead us here. But why? What does he want?" Castiel looked up suddenly.

"The Doctor. Where is he?" The brothers looked around in alarm, only now noticing his absence.

"Crap. He was just with us inside!" Dean ran his good hand through his hair fretfully. Castiel regarded them with deadly urgency.

"Go. Quickly."

****

"Who are you?" The Doctor asked, eyeing Lucifer warily from halfway across the room. He realised he had tensed his whole body upon his arrival, and had yet to let out a full breath. Lucifer smiled, except there was no warmth to be felt from the gesture. He pushed himself off the wall he had been leaning on, arms crossed loosely in front of his chest.

"That depends on the person, I suppose," He mused. "I go by lots of names. Satan, Prince of Darkness, Father of Lies, The Antichrist," He counted them on his fingers sarcastically.

"Lucifer." The Doctor said, the disgust in his voice masking the fear underneath.

"Ah, yes. That one's my favourite. Rolls off the tongue." He winked. In a flash, The Doctor reached into his inner coat pocket. He brought it out again, this time with the gun Dean had given him. It felt wrong in his hand, alien, and that scared him. A lot. Regardless, he pointed it directly at Lucifer's head, who looked more amused than anything else.

"Come on, man. I know you're new to this and all, but surely you must know that won't work on me. I doubt you even know how to use it."

"Try me." The bold statement didn't seem to fit with the way it was delivered. The hand that held the gun trembled slightly. This didn't go unnoticed by Lucifer, who chuckled almost apologetically.

"Even if it did, it doesn't look like you've got the guts, buddy. I respect that. It takes a lot to pull that trigger. Though the Winchesters probably told you it was easy, did they? I wouldn't be surprised." There was a surprising amount of reason in his voice, and this troubled The Doctor. He wanted a reason to fight back, and to have his actions justified. But now, facing this almost average looking man, he found himself hesitating. _Not a man,_ his mind whispered, and he straightened up, making himself taller and, hopefully, more intimidating.

"Where are they?" He demanded. Lucifer sighed.

"They're fine, unfortunately. I actually came here to talk to you, Doctor, man to man. I didn't want them to interfere. I don't know if you've noticed, but that's a speciality of theirs." He scrunched up his nose in annoyance. The Doctor redoubled his grip on the gun.

"Why?"

"Don't think so little of yourself. I've heard a lot about you. Doing what you do, word tends to get around." The Doctor faltered, his tough front damaged.

"What do you know?"

"I know that we have a fair bit in common," Lucifer took a breath to continue.

"I am _nothing_ like you." The Doctor spat out angrily. Lucifer smiled, unphased, and carried on as if he hadn't been interrupted.

"I know you're not human. I know you make a name for yourself travelling through space and time as you help everyone you come across that cries out for help." He held up his palms in a peaceful gesture. "An honourable job, I assure you. But you seem to have a rather large affinity with this planet, don't you? Of all the places you've been, the things you've witnessed, you always end up back here." Lucifer talked slowly, taking deliberate time to space out his words. The Doctor's eyes followed him unblinking as he paced slowly from side to side. It hadn't even occurred to him that his grip was slackening, the gun beginning to point toward the floor.

"Get to the point." Lucifer paused his movements, clasping his hands together in front of him like an upstanding businessman.

"I've come to make you a proposition. You see, I couldn't help but admire that fancy little blue box of yours. That's quite a party trick!" He said animatedly. "Being able to go anywhere, anytime with hardly any repercussions? It's enough to make anyone's pretty little head spin. Truthfully, it's something that even I would dream about. I am bound to this world, stuck with these self-righteous, stunted little apes." Lucifer's voice wavered, teetering between calm and reasonable and red-hot anger. He took a long, slow breath, attempting to centre himself before he continued. The Doctor simply stared, the hand holding the gun now hanging limply at his side.

"I am not a bad man, Doctor. Although that's what all of history would have you believe... but you need to understand I am the product of how I've been treated. My own _father_ cast me away, simply because I _loved_ him!" Lucifer became more and more wound up as he spoke, gesticulating madly. You know how it feels to be used, don't you? When you try so hard only to see all your efforts crash and burn... it hurts, doesn't it? And I know you feel it too." The Doctor had broken eye contact with him, and was staring blankly at the floor. _He's right. You don't want to believe him but he's right._ He felt an empty pit in his stomach as pieces of his too-long life flashed through his head in fragments of memory, as Lucifer's words continued to echo in his ears. "I see past all of this, Doctor. I know that there is more to this existence than the tiny lives of the humans running around this planet.They lie, and they cheat, and they drown themselves in money and drugs and sex, all with a smile on their face. But you and I, we are above them. We are more alike than you would probably like to admit, but is that such a bad thing? I think a little understanding goes a long way, don't you? I guess what I'm really asking is..." Lucifer stepped forward, startling The Doctor into holding his gaze. "Take me with you. Let me see what you've seen. Show me the furthest reaches of the universe. We can rule it, together." His voice became feverish, almost frantic. "Everyone and everywhere needs a leader; why shouldn't it be us? Don't we deserve that? Haven't we done enough to prove ourselves? The very laws of time are ours, and they _will_ obey us." Lucifer delivered his final statement with an air of proud finality. As he said it, though, a pang of uncertainty settled in The Doctor's brain. He had said almost the same thing not too long ago, when he was at his worst, and it was _wrong._ All of this was wrong. He felt a slight bit of clarity returning to him, as if waking him up from a spell. Humans had made him the person he was now. In fact, he was proud to be associated with them, despite their mistakes and wrongdoings. It wasn't long until his thoughts returned to his new-found companions.

"Sam and Dean...and Castiel. They are my friends." His voice trembled, all previous confidence had left him in the presence of Lucifer, who's face was quickly changing from hopeful to furious.

"Oh...Sam and Dean, Sam and Dean!" He growled, seeming to grow taller in his anger. Of course the Winchesters, of all people would be the ones to get to you first." He took another step forward, causing The Doctor to back up in fear until he felt his back hit the old splintered wall. "Let me show you who the Winchesters _really_ are." Lucifer's eyes flashed crimson, and The Doctor was driven to his hands and knees as memories that were not his own exploded painfully through his mind. There was Dean, a knife in his hand and surrounded by bodies. There was Sam, drinking a woman's blood. He watched as they killed, mercilessly, again and again. For a moment, it almost seemed as if they _liked_ it. More images flashed past, some too quick to see, but they all had the same end. Death...so much death. Just when The Doctor thought he could take it no longer, it stopped. He was dimly aware that he was on the floor. He let out a sob as Lucifer stood over him, satisfied. A sudden banging on the door behind them made them both jump, and Dean's urgent muffled voice carried into the room.

"Doctor?? Are you in there? Open the door!" Lucifer chuckled softly.

"It looks like our time is up. I'll give you time to think over my offer, Doctor. I know you'll make the right choice." The banging grew louder; Dean was trying to break down the door. "It really was a pleasure." Lucifer finished almost earnestly, and with a cheery wave, he vanished in a soft rush of wind. A split-second later the door slammed open on its hinges, sending Dean stumbling clumsily into the room, followed closely by Sam. The Doctor scrambled to his feet, shaking.

" _There_ you are. Are you oka-" The words died in Dean's throat. The Doctor was pointing the gun straight at him.

"Get back." His breathing was harsh and irregular. "Get back, please."

"Doctor, hey. Calm down, we're not the bad guys here." Dean reasoned seriously, raising his hands.

"Doctor, what did he tell you?" Sam asked, doing the same as his brother. The Doctor raised a hand to wipe away tears that were threatening to fall.

"He...he showed me things. Horrible things. How could you do that? How could you _enjoy_ that?"

"Look, whatever he showed you, I'm sure there's an explanation." Dean said, trying to move closer. "Lucifer feeds on doubt, he-"

" _I said_ _get back!_ " The Doctor shouted, startling Dean into backing up.

"Okay, okay. Here." Dean pushed Sam gently with one hand, giving him more space to move. "We're right here." The Doctor's eyes never left them, even as he began to move around the side of the room, the gun trained on them all the while. As he reached the door, he turned his back and began to run. "Doctor, wait...!" Dean's plea was cut short. The Doctor's hearts pounded in his chest. All he wanted was to get out of this dark, sickening place. He looked down at the gun in his hand and dropped it as if he were holding a live snake before he reached the main door and unlocked it swiftly with his sonic screwdriver. He exited the building and turned left, his coat flapping around his legs.

"Doctor, what-?" Castiel stood up from where he was sitting against the wall, regarding him with concern. The Doctor ignored him, rounding the corner and disappearing from view. A few moments later, the soft whooshing of the TARDIS floated through the air as Sam and Dean rushed out of the building. The three exchanged grave looks as the sound dissipated. They didn't need to follow him to know that he was gone. 


	20. Chapter 20

Loose gravel crunched underfoot as the three figures silhouetted against the trees made their way wearily down the worn-out path. Sam took the lead, his slightly hunched frame making him look shorter than he was. Dean and Castiel followed a few paces behind, walking side by side. A few moments later the Impala came into view, parked at the end of the driveway. Its inky black colour made it looks like a car-shaped void, waiting in the surrounding darkness.

"Want me to take care of that for you?" The angel asked sweetly at his shoulder. After a short pause he added: "I can feel my powers returning the further we go from the warding."

"Huh?" Dean's paces stuttered to a stop, his gaze not quite reaching Castiel. He was deep in thought, pangs of guilt washing over him. He wondered what Lucifer had shown The Doctor to illicit such a reaction from him. _Demons lie,_ he thought, but even as the words came to him, he wasn't so quick to believe them. He also knew too well that demons could tell the truth, especially if they knew it would mess with your head. The anxious pit in his stomach grew larger. He felt a certain sense of responsibility for their newfound friend, especially since they had dragged him far out of his comfort zone and into their world of hunting. Dean didn't wish the life he and Sam had upon anyone, despite the surprisingly often protests. Some saw the thrill, the adrenalin in the face of danger. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't experienced this before; but in the end, he knew their job always eventually ended in inescapable and inevitable loss. Of friends...and family.

"Dean?" Castiel's voice broke through the darkening haze of his thoughts. "Your hand." Looking down absently, Dean could see that the handkerchief he had tied around his hand was now soaked in red. It stung dully, his wired thoughts blocking out most of the pain.

"Oh. Yeah, sure." He untied the makeshift bandage, revealing the long deep cut. Castiel took Dean's hand, placing it palm-up on his. As he placed his other hand on Dean's wound, he quickly hissed the air through his teeth and jerked away slightly. Castiel looked amusedly at him.

"Wuss."

"Shut up." He tried again, taking care to keep his touch light. Dean watched as Castiel closed his eyes, focusing. His hand felt hot, then cold very quickly, and the pain subsided. Castiel opened his eyes again and gently drew his hand away. Dean inspected his palm. The blood was still there, but the gash had disappeared completely. He opened and closed his hand a few times, testing it.

"Thanks, Cas." He stared at his companion, almost in awe. Some things continued to amaze him; especially Castiel. A few years ago, he would have aggressively refuted the idea of angels existing. And yet here he was, a guardian angel at his side, who was now smiling contentedly up at him.

"You're welcome." A comfortable silence washed over them, broken in a few moments by Sam, closing the trunk of the Impala and walking round to face them.

"So, what now?" He echoed the words that were already playing on repeat in all of their heads. They had to find The Doctor, of course. He was scared, and depending on what Lucifer told him, dangerous. But they had a car, and he a time machine. They looked at each other, the same question bouncing unsaid between them.

Where would they even start?

****

The Doctor took a deep breath, trying to stop his head from spinning. The sweet smell of chocolate and coffee from the nearby café scented the cool air, calming him slightly. Chatter rose up now and again along the street as people passed by, interluded with the soft jingle of shop doors being opened and closed. The distant rumble of cars could be heard from the main road, and every once in a while a driver would honk their horn, shouting obscenities out of the window of their vehicle. Once he was feeling somewhat like himself again, The Doctor ducked into the café, walking swiftly to the back of the room and seating himself quietly in the corner, involuntarily slouching as low as possible in order to draw any attention away from him. Then he just watched. He watched people who had no time to sit down rush out with take-away cups, watched couples and groups talking animatedly over coffee and cakes, watched the people behind the counter yelling orders back and forth. Something about watching normal human people going about their normal human lives was strangely grounding. It wasn't long before The Doctor's thoughts returned to fighting with each other, as they had been doing on and off since he rushed out of that barn and pulled a random lever inside the TARDIS, not caring where he went. Had he done the right thing, running away like this? _Coward,_ hissed a voice. _Pathetic,_ whispered another. _You just pushed away the only people that could truly understand you._ The Doctor closed his eyes, massaging his temples as the other side of his brain rose up in protest.

_Understand me? They've killed people! Innocent people!_

_And you haven't?_ The nasty thought made his blood run cold. What was he doing, trying to make himself all high and mighty? He'd killed before, hoping in vain it was justified. He'd put people he cared about in danger, ruined their beautiful normal lives. That was inexcusable. _You're better off alone, you know that._ Before he could sink deeper into the vortex of self-loathing his mind had created, the bell that was hung on the front door of the café gave a sharp tinkle, causing The Doctor to jump violently in his seat. He flicked his eyes to the source of the disturbance. His hearts skipped in his chest as a painfully familiar woman walked in, her phone glued to her ear.

"Put me on hold one more time, and I swear to _god_ there won't even be a job for you to walk into tomorrow!" She ran a hand through her ginger hair as she walked briskly toward where The Doctor was sitting. He shrank back in his chair, wishing he could turn invisible. He knew exactly who she was. She was once his friend and companion. Someone he cared about dearly. As if in response to this, his hearts ached longingly for the time when they had travelled together; seeing the universe, saving lives along the way, her attitude in perfect sync with his witty and hyperactive personality. The Doctor cursed inwardly as Donna Noble seated herself at the table next to his, letting out a cry of protest to whatever the person on the other end of the phone was saying.

"Just _listen –_ argh!" She exclaimed. Whoever it was had clearly hung up. Donna violently returned her phone to her handbag, a frustrated sigh escaping her lips. The Doctor watched her face absently, pleading. _Don't look over, don't look over_. The thought had barely popped into his head before she turned hers, giving him a sidelong glance.

"What are you looking at, skinny?" The Doctor chuckled softly, feeling the corners of his mouth twitch up of their own accord.

"Nothing." He replied, almost too quiet to hear. He kept his eyes down at his hands clasped in front of him on the table. After an uncomfortable silence, he felt Donna's eyes on him again. She was looking at him strangely, like she was seeing him as a ghost. And The Doctor knew exactly the reason why, but the knowledge didn't pain him any less.

"...Do I know you from somewhere?" Donna's eyebrows furrowed, as if she herself was wondering why she was talking to a complete stranger. Except for the fact that he wasn't. He cleared his throat, still attempting to avoid eye contact with his former companion.

"Don't think so." He mumbled shortly. The silence slipped back, but only for a moment. The Doctor jumped slightly as Donna slid quickly into the seat opposite him into his field of view, making it almost impossible to avert his gaze any longer. "What're you-"

"You look like you could use a coffee." She declared simply, her absent confusion still lying in the background of her expression. She gestured to a nearby waitress, ignoring The Doctor's stammered protests.

"No no...I really don't want anythi-" He was silenced instantly by Donna's hand as she held it up and continued giving her order. It didn't take long before The Doctor watched her talk, realising he was smiling despite himself. _Nothing's changed,_ he mused, exhaling out of his nose in a quiet laugh. He had never forgotten that it was only Donna who boldly matched his personality, often leaving him at a loss for a witty remark which, in his case, was a difficult thing to achieve. He remembered with fondness the remarkable way in which they would feed off each other's hyperactive energy, keeping even the most stressful situations somehow miraculously light. And sometimes...

 _"Sometimes... I think you need someone to stop you."_ Her words echoed in his ears. He knew the absolute truth of the matter: he was the last of his kind, and criss-crossing the universe alone made him dangerous. He was angry. He was afraid. His decisions became erratic and unpredictable, even cruel. That was the last thing he wanted people to think of him as. Before his thoughts could travel any deeper, he blinked with a start. Donna was clicking her fingers in front of his face.

"Bad day?" She asked empathetically.

"You could say that," The Doctor huffed sarcastically. Donna hesitated, but only slightly before holding out her hand.

"Donna." The Doctor bit his tongue, stifling the urge to say "I know" and returned the introduction cheerfully enough.

"John Smith." She giggled at that; her laughter painfully musical to The Doctor's ears.

"I think you just won the award for the most generic name on the planet." He bowed, making her grin wider. What he wouldn't give to keep that on her face forever. They sat in the silence they had created, neither feeling the need to say something. The waitress returned to place a cup of coffee in front of each of them before Donna spoke up. "You know, I'm not normally the type to randomly start talking to a complete stranger. Why do I feel like I know you?" The Doctor smiled, trying to keep his mannerisms light so as not to tip her off that something was amiss.

"I guess I just have one of those faces." He lifted his coffee to his lips and drank, grateful for the warmth it gave him. Donna nodded vaguely, not looking entirely convinced. She seemed to push it aside as she took a sip of her coffee and leaned forward, clearly more interested in him than wary.

"So, wanna tell me about this nightmare day of yours?" She asked, sounding like a child asking for a ghost story.

"Not until you tell me about yours," The Doctor shot back, nodding to the discarded phone lying in the open handbag on the empty chair next to her. "Boy troubles?" She laughed again.

"Internet, actually. I just moved places with my fiancé and we both need it for work, so..." she shrugged. "All we can do is wait for them to take us off hold for more than thirty seconds, i guess." The Doctor noticed her finger twirling methodically around a lock of her red hair, a habit he had often seen her do in moments of stress.

"Congratulations." He offered earnestly, winning himself another smile, but this one looked different...sadder.

"Well, it's a process I'm used to, at least. I was going to be married once...before." She paused, a faraway look settling in her eyes, like she was forgetting something but couldn't quite put her finger on it. What The Doctor failed to remind her was that her husband-to-be had turned out to be an accomplice in helping an age-old alien spider queen in releasing her babies from the earth's core and devouring mankind. A small detail he could stand to leave out. He watched Donna shake herself out of her daze, regaining her previous composure in impressive speed. "But... it's nothing I can't handle. I have a certain knack of getting what I want."

"Don't I know it..." The Doctor mumbled to himself, almost inaudibly.

"What?"

"Nothing." Donna glared at him for a moment before taking back control of the conversation.

"Enough about me, it's your turn now." She leaned back in her seat, looking expectant of a satisfactory response. The Doctor paused, trying to put his thoughts into words that wouldn't send a human running for the hills.

"Well...I'm pretty sure I met a few of the best people I've encountered in quite a while, and I just pushed them away." Donna's eyebrows furrowed slightly, unperturbed by the sudden amount of sharing he was doing.

"You look like a smart man, John. Why would you do something like that if you know they're good people?" _Straight to the point then, naturally,_ he thought before forming a reply.

"I dunno... someone lied to me. At least I hope they lied to me, otherwise I've got all this backwards but..." The Doctor took a drink. "They got in my head, and now... I don't know what to think anymore." He breathed heavily, the weight of the earlier events coming back to him in a flood. He neglected to mention the almost overwhelming fear he felt at what Lucifer may do if he refused his offer. He was basically powerless in the face of such a being, that much he knew for certain. Donna was talking again, forcing him to push down his fear for now.

"Well... I'm not an expert or anything, but I do know that trust goes a long way. If people don't have trust, they have nothing. And whether that trust gets broken or not, the fact that you had it in the first place can say a lot about a person." She swirled the dregs of her coffee thoughtfully. "These people, if they're as good as you say they are, I'd say they're worth the risk, shortcomings and all." The Doctor pondered her words, knowing she was right. _You're always right._ He looked at her in amazed admiration.

"You are _brilliant_ , do you know that? I want you to know that." She blushed, holding up her left hand for him to see the ring twinkling on her fourth finger.

"Save it, mate." He ignored that, grabbing her hand and holding her gaze in deadly seriousness. She didn't pull away, equal amounts of amusement and alarm written on her face.

"I mean it. You think you're not important but you are. I've never met someone who wasn't important and you... you are _amazing."_ Donna smiled, but her eyes were still laced with concern. 

"You don't even know me." The Doctor sighed sadly.

"And you don't even know the half of it." She looked at him blankly, her vacant stare hurting The Doctor every second he looked at it.

"Well," She breathed in sharply, gathering her things and rising from her seat. "This has been one of the strangest encounters I think I've ever had with a person, but I'd be lying if I said it wasn't a good one." The Doctor bowed his head respectfully in reply as he stood up.

"The feeling is mutual." Donna slung her handbag over her shoulder and began to leave, turning to side-eye The Doctor with interest before she left.

"Goodbye, John." She smiled, and then she was walking away from him, the front door tinkling in farewell. He stood there for a moment, feeling very small. Suddenly, a thought occurred to him and he scurried out of the café in her wake. He saw her standing at the intersection, waiting to cross the road. He called out, causing her to turn around.

"Just out of curiosity, where did you park your car?" Donna laughed, then realised he was serious.   
"Just up that road a bit, why?" She pointed, The Doctor's eyes following her finger. She was pointing to a road leading past a small alleyway hidden from view. The exact alleyway he had parked the TARDIS in. Of course.

"If I told you to walk the opposite way around the block before going to your car and to not ask any questions, would you?" She looked at him in disbelief, her mouth open in a silent laugh.

"You are unbelievable." The Doctor smiled sheepishly. Donna thought for a moment, nodding.   
"I could do with a walk." She patted him on the shoulder before turning to walk the other way. He watched her go, something both happy and aching inside of him. Donna turned before she rounded the corner and waved. The Doctor raised his hand in reply.

She was gone with the glint of a smile and a flash of red hair. 


	21. Chapter 21

The Doctor closed the door of the TARDIS behind him, a heavy sigh falling past his lips. He was greeted with silence save for the calm rhythmic rise and fall of the machine's breath. He walked slowly to the main control panel, folding his coat over the railing. He leaned his forearms on her edge, looking up admiringly at the soft blue glow of her central pillar.

"Thank you, old friend," He spoke to her gently. "You always know exactly where I need to go, even when I don't." He reached out and gave the TARDIS an affectionate pat, almost swearing he could hear her give a contented sigh in reply. The Doctor listened to the silence for a moment, letting it wash slowly over him before meandering toward the big lever on the other side of the panel, hands in his pockets. He took his time, dread beginning to creep its way up his spine. Somehow, the thought of facing the friends he had pushed away, seeing their hurt and betrayed faces scared him more than what Lucifer had in store for him. He had come eye-to-eye with death and fear more times than he could count, and nothing frightened him more than hurting those who placed their trust in him. The Doctor rubbed his eyes, feeling incredibly old in that moment. _I'm nine-hundred and six, I think I'm entitled,_ he thought, chuckling sadly. He grasped the lever and pulled it down. Another sigh.

****

Castiel raised his head sharply, like a dog catching onto a scent. The impala's engine rumbled, soft and low, and its headlights pierced through the darkness, lighting the black road. The radio hissed with static, coming into focus every now and then with old blues. They had been driving for a few hours now, Sam diligently at the wheel while his brother took advantage of a rare moment of rest. Dean's chair was tilted back slightly, soft snores escaping him every so often. Feeling guilty, Castiel leaned forward and patted Dean's arm lightly, causing him to stir.

"Dean. Sam."

"Mmmph. Cas, what...?" Dean asked blearily, still half asleep.

"I know where he is. The Doctor."

"Where? How?" Sam perked up, eager for news.

"My going theory is that for whatever reason I can't locate him while he's using his..." Castiel faltered.

"...Space-ship?" Dean offered, rubbing the sleep off his face with a forearm.

"Yeah, that. But the second half of the theory is that if I can see him, Lucifer can too."

"Of course." Dean grumbled, fiddling irritably with the height of his seat. "Where is he, then?"

"Back at the motel."

"Then let's go have a chat." Said Sam before jerking the steering wheel, sending the Impala into a tight U-turn, tyres squealing. He ignored Dean's angry _"Watch it!"_ and pressed his foot a little heavier on the accelerator. He gave his brother a sidelong glance, a satisfied smile spreading over his features. "What? You do it," He reasoned.

"Yeah, but that's okay because it's me." Dean whined before turning to face Castiel. "Shut up."

"I – I didn't say anything!" Castiel raised his hands in a faux peace gesture.

"You were thinking it."

The Impala sped through the night.

****

The Doctor twiddled his fingers anxiously as he sat on the musty motel bed. _It still stinks_ , he thought broodingly. Unable to sit still for too long, he jumped up and began pacing, his coat swirling around his ankles. Movement always encouraged him to think. It wasn't long, however, before the shadows in the corners loomed larger than he previously thought, the wind sending the thin spindly branches of a tree scraping ominously across the window. A car backfired suddenly in the distance, causing The Doctor to jump in alarm. He sat back down with a huff. He wanted to stop thinking now. He waited in silence at the table, occasionally taking his sonic screwdriver out of his pocket to fiddle absently with, the mindless action comforting him slightly.

Slowly, painfully, the time passed. The Doctor was about to resume his pacing when the distinct rumble of an old car engine reached his ears, and a flash of light passed through the curtains. _Well, no backing out of this confrontation now,_ he thought dully as soft voices drifted through the air, getting gradually louder with every step.

"I told you I could've taken you both here instantly, it's no trouble-"

"Cas, look at my face and tell me whether you think I'd leave Baby unattended in the middle of nowhere." Silence, then "Exactly."

"You sure he's here, Cas? I don't want to think we drove all this way for nothing." Sam's voice was right outside the door. The click of a lock being turned, then the door swung open, revealing Castiel with his hand on the doorknob, Sam and Dean standing awkwardly behind him.

"Yep." Castiel answered sarcastically. The Doctor stared at them. There was a strange moment of tension, a few seconds where neither party did or said anything, as if unsure who was to make the first move. The Doctor swallowed nervously before raising a timid hand in greeting.

"Uh... H-hey." This gesture seemed to set Dean into motion. He placed a hand on Castiel's shoulder, indicating that he should move to the side. He did, giving Dean room to stride toward The Doctor with purpose. Seeing his advance, The Doctor tried to speak again. "Listen, I just – _ow!_ " Dean punched him in the arm. "What was that for?" he asked indignantly, rubbing the sore spot.

"For pointing a gun at me. Don't get me wrong, I'm used to it at this point, but not without good reason. And yours wasn't a good enough reason."

"I'm sorry." The Doctor flushed; his eyes fixed on his feet. "I-"

"I'm not finished." Dean interrupted, his tone shifting from mild amusement to anger. The Doctor shut his mouth, keeping his guilt-ridden face downturned. "You pointed a gun at me and Sam, you left without explaining yourself when we already had our hands full with freaking _Lucifer_ , you didn't say where you were going or what he said to you. You made us worry. We looked for you for hours. Look at me." The dead seriousness in Dean's voice made The Doctor look up, meeting Dean's eyes. His gaze had softened, calming him somewhat. "You made us _worry_." Silence again crept into the room, but Sam caught it before it could starve the conversation.

"Let's...let's sit down and talk. It'll be more comfortable for everyone." He shot Dean a meaningful glance, who nodded, reading his younger brother's face. The Doctor didn't need any further persuading. He took a few stumbling steps to the small wooden table before collapsing into a chair with a deep sigh, hiding his face in his hands. Sam and Dean seated themselves carefully opposite him, and Castiel retreated to a corner to save space in the small area. There was another quiet moment, punctuated only by their breathing. Dean leaned forward, chair creaking.

"What happened in that basement, Doctor?" He asked softly, almost gently, as if talking to a child who had awoken from a nightmare.

"He made me see... things," The Doctor's voice was quiet and muffled behind his hands. "In my head. Terrible things. About..." He dragged his hands away from his face, looking incredibly weary. "About you three." Sam and Dean exchanged grave looks at this, but otherwise remained unreadable. The Doctor looked at them desperately, his eyes flicking between them. "Tell me... were they real?" This made Dean sigh, wishing that he had a drink in his hand; at least that would give him something to focus on. Anything but this. However, he leaned forward, hands clasped on the table in front of him.

"What I wish I could say is that Lucifer lies. He lies and tells you terrible things to mess with your head. But..." _Deep breath_. "but I – we know better than that. We know that he also tells the truth. Especially when he knows it will benefit him." Dean's eyes didn't waver from The Doctor's, sad green eyes piercing blue ones. "Yeah, It's true. I've done things... things I regret, things I would do anything to take back. I mean, me and Sam both kind of kickstarted the apocalypse, so..." He chucked, though it was clear the humour was strained, forced. "But we've dedicated our lives to this job. To helping people, making the things we can make right, right. We're not perfect. We've stumbled, messed up more times than I can count. But we've done all of it together. Lucifer wants you to think we're monsters. And you can, you have that right. But he'll use our mistakes against us, when we use them to make ourselves better. We can't change the past, but we can keep doing what we're doing to make some small change in this screwed up world."

"We keep fighting." Sam added, nodding his approval. Castiel remained silent, looking deep in thought. The Doctor took a shaky breath.

"He said he'd give me the universe. He's not the first to offer it to me and he won't be the last. But... I'd be lying if I said it wasn't the first time I'd considered it. After all, haven't I done enough? Don't I deserve it? Normally, that would be the point that one of my friends would talk me down, show me that no one should have that power. But this time, I was alone. I have been for a while. It's bad for me, being alone. Too many thoughts in this old brain." He smiled, but became aware that he was blinking away tears that were threatening to spill.

"We can be that for you." The Doctor turned, surprised. Castiel hadn't moved from his spot in the corner, arms calmly by his sides. "Sam and Dean taught me what freedom means, and how important free will is. I was nothing but an obedient solder, once. They showed me what it means to be human. I think everyone needs to learn that. We can show you, too, if you like." The calm simplicity with which Castiel spoke struck The Doctor. He had known many humans in his life, and had come a long way from the reckless young boy in a stolen time-machine. But he knew he had a long way to go yet.

"I'd like that," He smiled at the angel. "I'd like that very much." He faced Dean and his brother, who also seemed taken aback by Castiel's confession. "Thank you." Dean shook himself out of his daze.

"Let's not get too hasty, I doubt Lucifer will be too happy with this ground-breaking revelation of ours. He'll be coming to talk to you again, and he'll want an answer this time. We're not going to give him the one he wants, so naturally chaos will ensue."

"What else is new?" Sam quipped, the atmosphere slowly lightening.

"I may have an idea," Castiel offered quietly, causing the three other heads to turn his way.

"That's more like it!" Dean rubbed his hands together excitedly. "Now let's get this son of a bitch." 


	22. Chapter 22

The moon began to rise, full and low in the sky. A light breeze caressed the forest trees, the rustling of leaves spreading calmly through the night. It was quiet, the nocturnal creatures emerging slowly from their homes to scavenge. The sudden crack of a twig underfoot sent them scrambling for cover. The Doctor's red canvas shoes stood out starkly against the dark undergrowth, his coat occasionally sticking to twigs and brambles. He walked slow, each step feeling heavy and far-away. His hearts pounded slightly faster than usual in his chest. He became aware of this as he navigated his way through the forest. This new feeling was taking him longer to overcome than he originally thought. It wasn't fear exactly, he'd felt his fair share of that in his long lifetime. It was more like the feeling that he had no control over what he was doing, what was happening to him and around him. And that scared him to hell. He chuckled out loud, somewhat amused at his brain's usage of the word _hell_ , now taking on a whole new meaning as he considered his new and recent experiences with the literal devil himself. The Doctor fidgeted nervously with something in his pocket as he approached a clearing in the bushes and trees. He paused, steeling himself, before making a notable change in his demeanour, striding confidently forward to the middle of the wide space. He cleared his throat loudly and began to speak, looking to the naked eye that he was addressing no one at all, but The Doctor himself knowing better.

"Hey... err, Lucifer? It's The Doctor... hello again," he suddenly felt very stupid, but he projected his voice with purpose, a slight echo returning to him as he spoke. "I don't know if I'm doing this right, but I hope you can hear me. Listen, I think we got off on the wrong foot, and I'd like to remedy that, if you'd let me. You see, your proposal is an interesting one, and I'd like to discuss it further if it – please...you..." he finished dumbly, listening to the silence that followed his hastily assembled monologue. He allowed for a few moments of quiet, then continued, his boldness growing by the second.

"Come on, Luci! I thought you wanted to be friends with me!" The Doctor's voice grew to a yell, sending a small family of birds winging hastily from a nearby tree in alarm. He raised his arms slightly, pivoting in a circle where he stood. "Must be hard to keep friends, you know, what with you being Satan and all. I imagine that puts a slight damper on your relationships." At this, a soft _whoosh_ resounded throughout the forest before a familiar voice spoke from behind him.

"You have no idea." The Doctor turned. Lucifer was sitting on the stump of a tree on the edge of the clearing, one leg crossed over the other and his faced cupped by one hand, as if he was discussing the latest gossip. "I'm glad that our previous meeting wasn't our last."

"A-absolutely!" The Doctor's voice cracked slightly in his hurry to answer enthusiastically. He coughed quickly in an attempt to cover it up. "I've been thinking a lot about your...idea."

"Oh, yes?" Lucifer leaned forward, his eyes flashing like a crimson coin in the sun. The Doctor gulped.

"Yes, marvellous plan, really inspired. I mean, it's a common request people ask of me, not to say that _your_ version isn't obviously the best, no offence or anyth-"

"You're rambling." Lucifer's voice lowered to an almost growl of warning as he stood.

"Right! Yes, of course, sorry." The Doctor inwardly scolded his nervous mouth. Lucifer's approach was slow and deliberate, causing The Doctor's heart(s) rate to heighten as he grew closer.

"So. You've been thinking about my... _inspired_ idea. What I want, what you want, how we can both benefit from this partnership, correct?" All at once The Doctor couldn't bring himself to speak, so he nodded lamely. "And you know that I want that pretty blue box of yours for me – for us to conquer the furthest reaches of the universe." Another nod. "And you come to me, now, to inform me that you agree to these terms?" Lucifer stopped in front of The Doctor, who scooped up every ounce of his inner courage for his next words.

"Actually... I came to tell you no."

"...No...?" Lucifer cocked his head to one side. His smile hadn't left his face. The Doctor took a deep breath and continued, his voice rising in confidence as he spoke.

"Like I said, you're not the first one to offer me the universe, and you sure won't be the last. I've declined them before, and I'll decline you now. The galaxy doesn't need you as its overlord, just like it doesn't need me as one either. No one deserves that power over so much. So I'll say this: This planet, this universe and every being that lives on it, lives free. But don't think for one second that it isn't protected." He finished angrily. Lucifer's eyes didn't leave The Doctor. There was a tense and uncomfortable silence.

"Bravo, Doctor. Truly a rousing speech. Although you'll forgive me for being distracted. This whole time I've been dying to know what you've got in your pocket." The Doctor looked down at the hand still in his coat pocket. He barely had time to form a reply before Lucifer's hands were on his throat. Even though he was considerably shorter than The Doctor, he had no trouble in lifting him off the ground. He walked slowly to the edge of the clearing, ignoring The Doctor's flailing attempts to escape his grasp.

"For someone so old you really are _stupid,_ " Lucifer spat, his red eyes flaming. "You think I ever take 'no' for an answer? _Me?_ Of all people? I will take what I want, with or without you. But..." He hesitated for a moment, letting The Doctor drop to the ground, gasping for air. "I do need you to tell me how to operate your... machine." He waited, tapping his foot while The Doctor caught his breath, leaning against a tree for support. "...Well?"

"No." He coughed out. Lucifer chuckled.

"I find that's a popular word with people I meet. Easily changed, however. I'm sure you don't mind, but a little persuasion can't _hurt_ , can it?" He clicked his fingers. The most intense pain he had ever felt instantly bloomed through The Doctor's body, causing him to curl in on himself, his hands clutched to his chest. His eyes screwed shut, and there was a ringing in his ears so loud that he couldn't tell if he was screaming. There was a sudden movement in the bushes opposite them, and a familiar voice reached The Doctor's pain-filled brain.

" _HEY!_ " Lucifer turned. Dean emerged from the shadows, followed closely by Sam and Castiel. Sam was carrying an intricate blade with an unknown language inscribed on the side, which Lucifer eyed amusedly.

"Stupid boy. You must know by now that that toothpick of a blade won't kill me."

"No," Sam smirked, twirling it deftly in one hand. "But it'll hurt like a bitch." He darted forward swiftly, weapon raised. Castiel stepped forward from beside him. The forest leaves billowed under his feet and he raised his head, his blue eyes aflame. Thunder cracked and echoed as a pair of huge, magnificent feathered wings spread out behind him as blue and as bright as lightning. Lucifer growled and advanced upon them.

The Doctor opened his eyes, pain still firing through every nerve in his body. He looked down at his shaking hands and watched a gold, bright light begin to emit from them.

"No...." He whispered to himself in horror. "No, not now." He started as he felt a hand on his shoulder. Dean was kneeling in front of him, rummaging frantically through his coat pockets.

"Quick, I need your plan C." The Doctor groaned in pain.

"I need to tell you something." Dean didn't stop, his green eyes focused.

"Whatever it is, it can wait."

"No!" The Doctor grabbed his arm, stopping his search and causing Dean to gape down at his still-glowing hands. "Listen – argh," another wave of pain swept over him. "There's this... this thing I have," he whimpered, dimly aware that he was crying. "This thing that happens... when I'm about to die." Dean pulled his arm forcefully out of The Doctor's grip to grasp his shoulder.

"You listen to me. That is _not_ going to happen, you hear me?" Dean said angrily, reaching into his pockets again. This time he found what he was looking for. He scrambled to his feet, darting back towards where his brother and Cas were locked in battle. Sam had sustained injuries, bleeding from his cheek and above his eyebrow. This fuelled Dean's anger further, causing him to run faster. He skidded to a halt just before the leaves under him darkened, looking almost damper than the rest. He gathered his wits.

"Hey, Asswipe!" Lucifer halted, and turned to face him, breathing heavily.

"I was wondering where our fearless leader had gone." He mocked, starting towards him.

" _NOW!_ " his loud instruction sent Sam and Castiel diving out of the way, just as Dean tossed the lighter down in front of him. The Holy fire leapt up instantly, running around in a large sweeping arch before joining at the back to create a perfect circle, with Lucifer standing dead in the middle. The Doctor's pain ceased immediately. Breathing harshly, he looked down at his hands. The golden glow was gone. He began to get shakily to his feet to re-join the others. The angry orange flames stayed in their neat arrangement, not even singeing the rest of the dry ground.

"Doctor? You alright?" Dean called, not taking his eyes off a furious Lucifer.

"Y-yeah, I'm okay." The Doctor stumbled over to them, hugging his arms for comfort. Lucifer gave a short, crazed bark of a laugh.

"You fools. If you think-" He took a few steps forward, stopping abruptly as the flames licked at his boots and reflected in his wild eyes.

"Sorry, you were saying?" Dean laughed back. Lucifer growled.

"If you think this is going to hold me..."

"Oh, we know it won't." Sam spoke up. "We just needed to buy ourselves some time."

"Which, incidentally," The Doctor added, "I seem to have an _awful_ lot of." He raised his sonic screwdriver. As it whirred, the familiar wheeze of the TARDIS melted through the trees. The Doctor mustered up what was left of his strength to give a cheery wave as his trusty blue box materialised around them. They could just make out Lucifer's shriek of frustration as they began to disappear. He watched them go, an unfathomable anger building inside of him. He screamed with rage one more, but they were gone, and he was yelling up at an empty sky.


	23. Epilogue

"Ready?" The Doctor bounced excitedly up and down on his heels, one hand on the TARDIS door while an unsure Sam and Dean exchanged glances. Castiel hovered nervously behind them, hands shoved deep in his pockets, not knowing where to look. The TARDIS, normally ridiculously bumpy and unstable whilst travelling was calm and still, the centre console breathing softly behind them.

"Nope!" Dean answered, turning to give Cas a wink and a thumbs up. His eyes flitted to Dean, and his shoulders relaxed ever so slightly, the movement almost too minute to spot. The Doctor's grin spread impossibly wider as he pushed the door open with a creak.

"Welcome to the universe." The first thing that caught Dean's eye was the colour. The most vivid colours he had ever seen, swirling through the blackness. Purple and blue entangling together, green floating lazily atop them. Blindingly bright flares of orange danced through the mix, cutting through the darker hues like a knife. And far away, pinpricks of white in the darkness. He didn't think he'd seen so many stars in his life, not even when he and Sam would lie on top of the Impala in the middle of nowhere, staring up at the sky. Sam looked breathlessly out at the endless void, struck by how deep the silence was. It pressed against his earlobes somewhat uncomfortably, but the sight alone was enough to take his mind off it. Time passed, but neither were aware of it.

"Well?" The Doctor broke the deafening pause, looking eagerly between the two brothers, awaiting their response.

"It's...wow." Was all Dean could muster, Sam showing his agreement to this statement with a quiet and disbelieving exhale. "How – how are we breathing?"

"Invisible forcefield." The Doctor boasted proudly, though no one seemed to notice or mind.

"We...are in space. Right now. I, Dean Winchester, am in _space_!" Dean had begun to regain his composure, the sheer disbelief beginning to set in. He clapped his brother on the back, who didn't seem to feel it. "This – this is incredible, Doctor."

"One never really does get entirely used to it." He replied happily.

Castiel hadn't said a word. He stared unblinkingly into space, an innumerable amount of thoughts racing through his head. Once, he had been nothing. It felt like an age ago, and in a way, it had been. He obeyed every order given to him, thought nothing of it, and felt even less. Then he met a human. Rescued him from the pits of hell as instructed. What he didn't account for was the change in him that that small action had begun. It started small at first: tiny, questionable doubts at the very back of his mind. But they grew, and swiftly. Each one led to another, and before he knew it he was feeling emotions that he never thought he would feel, or even existed. Every day from then on, he felt more and more human. And now he was here, somewhere he had never fathomed he would be, with the two people he loved most in the world. And it was truly beautiful.

"Cas?" The voice, closer than he had anticipated, made him jump. Dean had sidled casually backward to stand at his side. "Hey, you okay?" he asked softly. Cas lifted a hand to his face, surprised to feel warm tears in his eyes.

"Y-yes, I am." He answered slowly. "I think I'm...happy." Dean grinned, putting a comforting arm around Cas' shoulder.

"Then I'm happy too." They stayed like that for a while, watching the colours swirl and dance. Sam had taken a seat at the edge of the TARDIS, watching his legs dangle precariously over the edge into nothingness. The Doctor was the first to speak after that, clapping his hands authoritatively like a teacher on a school trip.

"Right! Let's get a shift-on, what do you say? Places to go, people to see!" He bounded back towards the console, snapping his fingers once Sam had stood up. The TARDIS doors swung closed.

"What about Lucifer?" Dean queried, leaning up against the wall.

"Frankly, what about him? It seems to me that we don't have the knowledge or the skill as of yet to deal with that...guy. And he made it very clear he can't find us unless we're on Earth." Sam's eyebrows furrowed, trying to make sense of The Doctor's reasoning.

"But...he'll get out of the holy fire, and soon. Who knows what he'll do after that?" The Doctor smirked.

"Did I mention that we can travel in time?"

"You did mention that, yeah." Dean conceded dumbly. "So you're saying that we could do whatever, now, and if we figure out what to do next we can just... _pop_ back to then and there?"

"Yup." The Doctor reached forward and pulled a lever. The TARDIS began to shudder and shake. He leapt deftly around the controls, looking as though he was relishing in every moment.

"So, where to now?" Sam asked. The Doctor's smile spread wider than looked humanly possible, a knowing sparkle in his eye.

"Anywhere you'd like."

**-The End-**


End file.
